


set to rise

by redluna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Disabled Character, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Trans Inquisitor, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 62,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redluna/pseuds/redluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen Rutherford has been many things in his life. Solider, addict, victim, and, through more dubious claim, survivor. Adding baker to that list doesn't seem like much of a stretch, but with the group that makes up Herald's it might just be everything.</p><p>Especially one Dorian Pavus. Barista, grad student, and roommate.</p><p>It isn't so much a story of learning to put the pieces back together again as realizing that perhaps it was never truly broken to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story honestly began as a daydream concocted to keep me sane when I was still stuck at one of the jobs straight from hell. It's grown into much more since then, thanks to the encouragement of [withcoffeespoons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/withcoffeespoons/pseuds/withcoffeespoons), who also let me borrow their Inquisitor Curtis Lavellan for this story.
> 
> I'll tell you upfront that there's a lot to this story, so if you're settling in it'll probably be for a long haul, but I hope that it will be worth it!
> 
> (There are some side pairings that will emerge that aren't tagged above and the warnings might be added to over time, but, for now, what's up there is what you should be aware of.)

Cullen was hardly unaccustomed to staring down his fear. He had been a soldier, after all, prayers getting lost in the roar of the gunfire. And there had been what came after too. Which, for his own sanity, if not for that of all those involved, he forbade himself from dwelling on.

It would have been a diversion from the point of the matter, anyway, which was that he was foolishly afraid of the building in front of him.

The place itself wasn’t actually spooky, even with the Halloween decorations slapped up a whole month early onto the wide, well lit windows. The wood paneling, like everything else on the street, was old, gone soft and warped with age. Yet it was obvious that someone was still seeing to its care, if the vibrant green trim was any indication.

The sign hanging above the door on an iron post was about as old fashioned as the cobblestones beneath Cullen’s feet. You would have had to squint to make out the faded word “Herald’s”, done in elaborate white cursive against the deep forest color. Which no doubt explained why Leliana had actually had to duck outside while on the phone with him to even  _ remember _ what the name was. He could remember the quiet fondness in her voice before she had caved to his insistence for a name as she simply repeated, “It’s  _ the bakery _ , my dear.”

There was no reason for it not to be exactly what it seemed like—-a warm, cozy bakery tucked into a corner of the small town of Haven. Except that it was also the place where Cullen would be having his first true interview since the mess he had made of his past a year and a half ago. That it had all no doubt been arranged only because two of his closest friends worked here didn’t help matters.

Still, it was what his therapist would have called a step in the right direction. Extracting himself at last from the grip of his well meaning but overbearing family members and moving to a whole new area to find a job. But none of that did anything to keep Cullen’s palms from turning sweaty or his throat dry.

But, in the end, there was nothing to do, save steel himself and march in. He had done all that he could by this point and even if—-or  _ when _ rather—-he failed he could at least consider this good practice as to what to expect. It had to be better than attracting odd glances for being the grown man staring down a bakery at least.

He was more than a little bit startled, however, to step in from the quiet bustle of the street to a bright, near childish voice listing off an impressive string of curses.

“Sera, shush!” The accent of the voice wrapped the words in softness, despite the sharp rush of the tone. It all came from a woman, who made Cullen feel underdressed even in his suit. Her dress was made of soft navy fabric, clinging to each curve while the gauzy golden material of her sleeves billowed away from delicate, olive toned skin. She was clutching hold of a clipboard as though her life depended on it, scowling back into the kitchens.

“Oh, shush yourself, Miss Fancy Britches!” A head popped up through the service window, allowing Cullen a quick view of cropped, straw colored hair going every direction possible and ears lined with flashy piercings, not a single one matching. Then gray eyes flew wide and said head disappeared entirely. “Shite, customers!”

“What? I… Oh!” Cullen offered up a sheepish smile when the elegant woman started at the sight of him. “I do apologize, this isn’t the usual standards we adhere to. It’s only—-”

“Is that Cullen?”

He would have recognized that voice anywhere, still tinged with a thick Nevarran slide, despite the stream of nannies that had tried to ease it out after the family moved. He found that he was already smiling by the time Cassandra darted out from the kitchens. She hardly paid attention to the other woman’s admonishments not to run across a possibly slick floor, throwing her arms around Cullen the instant she reached him.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.” She gave him a single, tight squeeze before releasing him, but she kept her hands on his shoulders, eyes appraising as she looked him over. “Leliana will be pleased to see you.”

“She will?” Josephine asked, before beaming bright enough to put the sun to shame.“Oh, you’re  _ that _ , Cullen? It is such a pleasure to meet you. Leliana speaks so much about you. I’m her roommate, you see, and the personnel director here.” She all but bounced in her flats as she walked forward, eyes shining when Cullen shook her extended hand. “It is so good of you to arrive early.” Her lips pursed. “Now if only our  _ illustrious _ owner could manage such a feat.” 

A snort drew Cullen’s gaze towards the register where the clerk had apparently brought half his book collection to work with him, stacked off to the corner behind the counter. Cullen found his tongue sticking to the roof his mouth as he stared at the man for, truly, no one had the right to be so handsome. Or be able to pull off a mustache with such style, for that matter. It was only made worse when the man winked at him, laughing when Cullen ducked his head around his furious blush.

He wasn’t looking for a relationship now, not with the memories of  _ him _ churning his stomach, but that didn’t mean his body didn’t react to attraction like any other.

“Do you truly want Curtis to see us in such a state?” His voice was almost like Josephine’s yet where her warmth was soothing, his was swift and cutting. “You know how he gets when things are amok.”

“Ugh,” came the childlike voice from the kitchens. “No one likes boss being bossy except for Bull. And that don’t count what with their weird...thing.”

Cullen wasn’t entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, but based on the varying faces the people around him pulled he figured it was best placed out of mind anyway. “Are things really that bad?” he asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say…” Josephine sighed, grimacing as a clang echoed from back in the kitchen, followed by another round of cursing. There was a sympathetic pinch to the smile she offered Cullen. “We’re short handed, you see, and being overworked as made everyone rather...tense.” 

Cassandra nudged at Cullen with her shoulder. “Which is precisely why you should step in,” she said.

“Now?” Cullen ignored the incredulous lift of her narrow brows, shaking his head. “I haven’t even had my interview yet.”

“That may still take some time, I’m afraid,” Josephine said. “Leliana still has to wrangle Curtis from Bull’s clutches and that can be…” She shook her head at the near mad cackle that erupted from Sera in the back. “And any help you can offer would certainly be a great aid.”

“It will be a good chance to prove yourself,” Cassandra said. He caught sight of the upward quirk of her lips before she headed back towards the kitchens. “Make sure you remove at least some of that monkey suit before you come back.”

“Oh yes!” The barista chuckled at the flare of color that burst across Cullen’s cheeks at that, although he waved away the glower. “Now, now, my dear man, if you are at least half as good as Cassandra says all of us will be grateful to have you here.” He reached a hand over the counter. “Dorian Pavus, by the way.”

“Cullen Rutherford.” Cullen offered one firm shake, doing his best not to outwardly register the way the other man’s fingertips dragged against his inner wrist before pulling back. “Where precisely in Tevinter are you from?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up at that, causing Cullen to worry that he had managed to misstep. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time as of late. But then Dorian’s expression was already evening out into a surprisingly soft smile. “Clever man,” he said. “I’m formerly of Minrathous, for all the good it does.”

Cullen was tempted to inquire further with a response like that, which was probably why it was just as good that Cassandra emerged to start hauling him into the back. Dorian, at least, was helpful in draping his discarded suit jacket over the nearest chair with far greater care than he would have managed himself. 

“Good luck on the physics work,” he said. 

Dorian shot a surprised glance at his stacks of books, but Cullen got to catch his grin before he was tugged back into the kitchens for good. And somehow that made the entire exchange feel well worth it.

Besides, there was no denying that it felt good to get to work again. He could lose himself entirely too easy in the rhythmic kneading of the bread or easing frosting out of the pastry bag and onto the chilled cupcakes that Cassandra placed in front of him. Even being able to bicker with her over recipes was enjoyable, especially when Sera, who was the dishwasher apparently, took it upon herself to chime in with her own opinions.

All things considered, there were even some fair ideas thrown into the mix. Sera’s flavor suggestions were often too offbeat against Cassandra’s own more traditional leanings, but Cullen was fairly sure that there was a way to string the ideas together.

“Honey flavor can  _ to _ work!” Sera protested. She had abandoned the sink for now in favor of standing by Cassandra in the kitchens. There was enough space for it now that Cullen had slipped out to start stacking the display cases. “The boss always makes it with that fancy lady friend of his and it tastes aces so there!”

“How either of them tolerate you I’ll never know,” Cassandra grumbled.

Cullen snorted at the sound of a raspberry being pulled, shaking his head. It almost reminded him of how his family kitchen used to be with his mother chasing his more rambunctious siblings out before they could steal samples of what she was teaching him to make. She never chided them whenever she would discover that Cullen had already snuck them some, though.

“It shouldn’t be too sweet with the right frosting,” he said. “Maybe something of spiced apple?” He rose to his feet, brushing his hands off against each other, just in time to witness Sera’s absolute crow of delight while Cassandra simply stared at him in horror.

He didn’t pay much attention to the jingle of the shop bells at first. It was a sound that had grown gradually more common as the day progressed; still slumped up college students looking for their second dose of caffeine and a sugar rush alongside families looking to grab a quick sandwich with the children peering wide eyed into the display case glass.

This time, however, the sound was followed by a voice that, for all its softness, had Cullen standing to attention as it cut through the ambient noise of the bakery like a knife.

At least Leliana’s glower was angled at the spindly redhead that she was shooing through the door. Her exasperated eye roll, on the other hand, was saved for the bulking man who followed through after, seemingly unable to cease his chuckling.

“Not that late?” Cassandra herself would have been impressed by the scoff Leliana managed to utter. “Such nonsense. Things cannot run entirely without your direction, you know.”

The redhead sighed, as if this was a regular occurrence and, well, knowing Leliana it probably was. “You see, you say that,” he said, “but, as I remember, there was a  _ reason _ why I hired you all.” He grinned under the weight of the glare that was all but immediately leveled at him.“Besides, it doesn’t look like I need to fix things after all.”

“All thanks to Cullen,” Cassandra said. She slapped her hand against his back, only for her eyes to widen as she remembered just what her hand was covered with.

Cullen knew that, in the long run, it could have been worse. Cassandra could still have her hands covered in yeast or, worse yet, some of the leftover red velvet dough. It was only flour, the same that that had gotten smeared across his cheek and gotten dusted over his trousers. And with all that it was hard not to be hyper aware of the yeast drying along his forearms from where he had rolled his sleeves up around his elbows.

All of the centered peace that had washed over him while baking evaporated in an instant, leaving him feeling as gawky as he no doubt was. “I…” He sighed, wishing his voice wouldn’t tremble so stupidly. “Are you Curtis Lavellan then?”

He wasn’t prepared at all for the tension that drew the other man’s shoulders together, even as his chin lifted. “Not what you expected?”

Cullen wasn’t sure what he had done wrong, but he was aware that everyone, at least in the small cluster of employees, was collectively holding their breath. “No, that’s not…” He had to bite down on his tongue, trying to force his heart to ease so he wouldn’t trip over his words anymore than he was already. “I’m just sorry that you have to see me like this.” He gestured more than a little helplessly at himself, still unsure whether he hadn’t managed to step on yet another unintentional landmine or not.

Curtis blinked once then twice before actually  _ laughing _ of all things. “Seriously?” he cried before turning his head to Leliana. In a stage whisper, he added, “He does know he’s being hired for the  _ baking _ position, right?” He reached out a hand to Cullen’s wrist. “Look, I’m not going to complain about you helping us cover our asses.” He hooked his thumb over to a narrow hallway off the left side of the kitchens. “Come on, let’s go up to my office.”

Cullen nodded, trying to at least swipe the flour from his cheek as he went. He could feel Cassandra trying rub the floury handprint off the back of his shirt as well, but he was fairly sure that was a lost cause by this point.

The steps up to the office were well worn, the lacquer worn down in the middle under the weight of repeated footsteps. They lead up to the office, a little room tucked off to the side, and not much else. Even the office itself was surprisingly sparse outside of the knick knacks spread out across the desk before the computer. But, then again, it had already been implied that Curtis wasn’t in that often, so perhaps it was simpler to just not bother personalizing the space.

Curtis waited until Cullen had settled down into the squeaky chair across from him to stop flicking through his resume and speak. Anyone else might have thought that there was no way that such a petite man, one that just toed the line of appearing underage, could be intimidating. But Cullen had watched men much the same haul fellow soldiers over their shoulders without so much as batting an eye and he had grown up caught between two sisters his whole life.

Making assumptions based on someone’s appearance was a fool’s move. And, besides, it was starting to dawn on him that Curtis was well aware of just what sort of presence he gave off.

“So…” If Curtis noticed the way that Cullen snapped to attention he didn’t comment on it, keeping his gaze on the papers spread over his desk. “You’ve got letters of recommendation from at least two of the people who already work here, so that’s some of the questions down already, but this other one is from your...recruiting officer.” His eyes flicked up to Cullen at long last. “You were in the military?”

“Yes,” Cullen said. “I held the rank of Commander in the Templar Unit.” He could tell from the way the other man’s eyebrows lifted that he was familiar with the military group, but then there weren’t many who weren’t, especially not after the incident that had caused the group to make headlines. He was just glad that there seemed to be fewer and fewer people that remembered his name being attached to it.

“And is that what lead to your…” Curtis trailed off when Cullen huffed a somewhat bitter laugh.

“No,” he said, “that came after.”

He expected Curtis to probe further into the matter, something he was within rights to do under the cover of the interview, but instead the man only nodded. “Are you going to need any accommodation?” The corners of his mouth lifted slightly when Cullen simply blinked at him, brow furrowing. “Keeping workplace injuries down is hard enough with Sera, you see.”

“Uh...no.” Cullen offered a somewhat timid smile in response to Curtis’s continued stare. “If anything did come up, I’d let you know, but I have hearing aids if things get difficult enough and so long as Cassandra can handle the majority of alcoholic mix ins—-”

“You’re serious about keeping sober then?” Curtis asked.

Cullen’s response was immediate. “Yes. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to...do good.”

He thought he might have caught a flicker of pride in Curtis’s gray eyes before it was replaced by amusement. “And you’re gonna do that as a baker?”

Cullen had to dig his fingers into the fabric of his trousers to keep from rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’d like to think so,” he said. “I’ve been...complacent...for too long. I want to start  _ living _ again, to do something that’s actually productive.” He sighed, not trusting himself to raise his eyes back up. If he did he might never be able to get it all out, let alone with the words in the right order. “And this is something I truly do enjoy so it just… I can only promise that doing well in this position would mean as much to myself as it would to you.”

The silence that came after lingered just long enough for Cullen to feel his throat start to clench, but then there was a soft snort.

“Holy shit, you’re actually serious.” Cullen’s head snapped up, startled, but Curtis was already holding up a hand, expression somewhat sheepish. “It’s not like that’s a bad thing just...unexpected. I’m more used to college kids have dozing in their seat and people feeding me answers read off the internet, you know?” He rose from his chair. “So, look, honestly, I only have one question left.” The gaze he leveled at Cullen almost set him to squirming again. “This place doesn’t close the door on anyone. Even if those people aren’t always commonly accepted elsewhere. Is that something you’d be alright with? Not to judge, but with your time in the military…”

“The military is full of backward policies.” Cullen caught the lift to Curtis’s eyebrows and took a deep breath, trying to force the bitterness from his voice. “There’s no reason I shouldn’t be alright with something like that...and that should stand for everyone else out there as well.” It made something twist deep down in him to consider what sort of event might have made such a question a necessity. A reaction spurred from his “white knight” tendencies as Mia was always so fond of calling them, typically with considerable eye rolling. He was just glad that those parts of himself hadn’t been stripped away at least.

Curtis blinked once, long and slow, before a small smile bloomed slowly onto his face. “Now I get it.” He didn’t leave Cullen much time to process what—-if anything—-that was supposed to mean before opening a drawer to tug out a small stack of papers. “You’re probably familiar with all this mess already—-heck, you can probably fill them out right downstairs if you want to—-but once you get these all wrapped up things should be all set. Josephine will probably move the process along even faster for you…”

“Wait.” Cullen rose from his own chair, blinking somewhat rapidly as he took the papers being thrust at him. “Does mean… I mean to say…”

“Did you get the job?” Curtis looked somewhat bemused by his babbling, which Cullen supposed was better than frustrated. “Yeah, I’d think so.” He pursed his lips. “Just one last thing.”

Despite having the longer legs out of the two, Cullen was still left to struggle to keep pace with Curtis as he darted out the door to the office and down the stairs. His stomach bottomed out when he touched down on the main floor to find the younger man conversing with Dorian over which creations were specifically Cullen’s and which would be the best to try.

At least he could safely say that he wasn’t the only one taken aback when Curtis all but moaned around his mouthful. 

“You made pumpkin cupcakes.” Curtis swiped the crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. “With actual pumpkin and  _ spices _ .”

“Uh...yes?” Cullen shifted on his feet. “It didn’t feel right to just use the seasoning for it and there was a whole spice rack in the back that…” He trailed off, finally giving in to the urge to rub at the back of his neck. “It meant changing the recipe, but I thought—-”

“Keep doing that.” Curtis waved a hand. “That thinking thing, I mean.”

“Such eloquence from your brilliant leader,” Dorian drawled. He outright yelped when Curtis retaliated with a swat to his head, fussing over righting the strands set to disarray. Both of them, though, stopped to stare when a true laugh rumbled its way out of Cullen followed by a vibrant blush when he realized he was being watched.

Curtis bounded forward to squeeze Cullen on the shoulder, the curve to his smile decidedly sly when he peered up at him. “Welcome to the team, Cullen. Looks like you’re one of us now.”

To anyone else, it wouldn’t have seemed so monumental. But for Cullen it was a step in the right direct and, for the first time in far too long, it would be done with actual traction on the firm ground beneath his feet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the fact that this chapter is somewhat short, but each one should start to increase in length as we increase momentum.
> 
> And, because I'm a total goof, the "honey cake" that Sera references is a real thing and can be found [right here](http://www.chabad.org/blogs/blog_cdo/aid/2635036/jewish/Lekach-Honey-Cake.htm)!

It took barely any time at all for the last of Cullen’s paperwork to filter through and, just like that, a semblance of peace descended over the bakery. The days hadn’t gotten any less hectic, of course, but it was comforting to know that, by next week at the latest, there would be someone coming in to relieve them. Even their customers were thrumming with excitement over the promises that the creator of the fabulous goodies from earlier that week would be joining the team officially soon.

Sera had clambered out to slap a soapy high five onto Dorian’s hand when Curtis had stumbled in around closing go over the finalizations for Cullen’s paperwork. And while Cassandra’s disgusted scoff spoke to him on a spiritual level as he snagged napkins to wipe his hand clean, Dorian couldn’t help but concur.

Still, in retrospect, he supposed that things had been going a little  _ too _ smoothly for there not to be some sort of unrest.

“What the  _ hell _ ?!”

Dorian gave up wiping the tables off to pinch the bridge of his nose. At least there weren’t any customers around for this particular outburst. Typically, they weren’t that lucky.

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose while watching customers jump in their seats as much at Curtis storming down the stairs as Sera’s mad cackle. He was merely glad that it wasn’t his duty to run damage control. No, that dubious honor belonged to Josephine, who was already darting back dazzlingly fast on her heels to snatch the papers from Curtis’ flailing hands. 

He would include Leliana in the assertion if her efforts weren’t aimed more at reading over Josephine’s shoulder. It was a bit surprising to see her mouth drop open, even if it only lasted a second before being replaced by a frown. “Oh, that  _ impossible  _ man.”

“Our new hire, I presume?” Dorian asked.

“He put a hotel down as his address!” Curtis snagged the paperwork out of Josephine’s hands to point at the offending line, earning impressive scowls from both of the ladies near him. “I mean, who does that?”

“Someone determined to carry through without fault.” Cassandra had emerged from the kitchens at last, along with Sera. It took a considerable effort for Dorian not to snap at the latter, who plopped immediately up onto the just cleaned countertop. “It bodes well for his future employment, at least.”

“I don’t want a _robot_ , Cass,” Curtis said. The pause that came after that statement didn’t speak of anything good, though, and, sure enough, “Well, okay, let’s be real it depends on what _type_ of robot we’re talking. Because Bull and I have definitely…” He let his words roll away into a sharp clearing of his throat when he caught just how dangerous Cassandra’s scowl was starting to become. “Look, I just mean that our pay isn’t gonna fund an apartment—least not a good one. If he wants one of those he’s gonna need a…”

Dorian raised his eyebrows at the way his boss’s gaze slid over to him, the reason why not fully dawning until the other man went to open his mouth again. “Oh no, I refuse to be sold out.”

“Come on!” Curtis exclaimed, tossing his hands up in the air. It was something of a miracle that the paperwork had managed to survive so far. “It’s not like it won’t be giving you a hand too. Or have I just been imagining all your whining about not having a person to split rent with?”

“As if you’re here often enough to hear it,” Dorian scoffed. “And, besides, I have Felix.”

“You  _ had  _ Felix,” Leliana pointed out, completely unfairly. “He has housing through the university now, does he not?”

“Well, yes,” Dorian said, “but I  _ knew _ him. Cullen is a lovely man to be sure—” A man with a good read of people, an actual understanding of physics, and a straight up  _ devastating _ smile, he would admit that if only to himself. “—but he’s a stranger. How exactly am I supposed to go about inviting him into my home?”

“The same way Curtis went about hiring him,” Leliana said. “I know Cassandra will speak on his behalf as surely as I will.”

Dorian sighed, already sensing how Cassandra stood to attention without even having to look her way. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll give him a proper assessment during the tour of the apartment to see if he’s a good fit. But only because I trust your tastes...and Cassandra’s ability to twist my limbs into cruel, painful positions.”

*

Given what Dorian knew of Cullen so far, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he arrived on Saturday precisely on the time agreed over through their series of texts. To be fair, though, he  _ had _ expected the other man to arrive as somewhat buttoned up as he had on their first arrival. So he thought he could be forgiven for feeling a touch like he had been struck upside the head with a pan when Cullen arrived in a worn t-shirt that clung to his frame in truly unfair ways. Even if the latter probably had more than a bit to do with the sweat that Cullen had to swipe from his forehead with the back of his hand, Dorian was too far gone to feel at all repulsed. 

“Am I late?” Cullen didn’t seem to notice Dorian’s lapse in responding, at least, outright grinning when he caught sight of the clock on the wall and could answer his own question. “Ah, perfect! I thought I’d have enough time for a run if I left early enough.”

“You work out?” In another situation it would have been the perfect lead in for a dash of flirtation, but Dorian wasn’t about to attempt that with a would be rommate, no matter how handsome. And, besides, as he took in Cullen’s frame, the question became more of a real one. After all, for all his wide shoulders and broad chest, there were still some softer, looser areas that didn’t quite hold with the overall image. “I’ll take it that’s how you met Cassandra then.”

“Uh...no, not exactly.” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m not sure if she told you about her government work, but...ah...she used to consult for the unit I was in from time to time.”

“She might have mentioned it.” Along with the fact that Cullen had been in the military at all, but then that Cullen had admitted it on his own without any real prompting counted for much more. “Does this mean there’ll be two drill sergeants in the back now?” Dorian was rewarded with a bark of real laughter for that. 

“God, I hope not,” Cullen said. “I figured you’d be the one snapping commands, actually, depending on how swamped you get up front.”

“Now, now,” Dorian said, finger ticking back and forth in the air, “I’ll have you know the teeth only come out if you don’t pay attention to orders.”

“Glad that I have that in my favor then,” Cullen said. If the red that slapped onto his cheeks within seconds was any guess, he hadn’t taken a full assessment of what that could mean, and Dorian wasn’t about to make someone uncomfortable simply because he couldn’t temper his own flirtations. 

Although, to be completely fair, that was a difficult task when someone insisted on being as frankly  _ adorable _ as Cullen Rutherford.

“If one or two of my fellow employees are to be believed,” Dorian said. “You have quite a few things working in your favor.” 

He certainly wasn’t expecting Cullen’s face to darken over such a quip. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to set them loose on you.” He sighed. “If it’d be a bother to—”

“I keep all sorts of odd hours,” Dorian said. “Comes with the turf when jockeying between being a barista and striving for a Masters, I’m afraid. I can’t cook worth a  _ damn _ unless you mean anything that can be done up in the microwave. And I have a habit of leaving things a bit...well everywhere, as you can see.” 

Cullen chuckled as he followed the sweep of Dorian’s arm. “You have created quite the minefield with all those books. But why—”

“Well I did clean up a touch before you got here.” There was no way Dorian was going to let Cullen see the dishes that had been left to pile in the sink or the few stray pairs of undergarments that hadn’t yet gotten back to his room. There were somethings that simply weren’t classy. “But there was a point to all of this.”

“I would hope so,” Cullen said. The upward curve of his lips drew attention to the scar bisecting the left side of his mouth and, if Dorian weren’t trying so hard to ignore that particular aspect of the other man, he would have some very choice comments about just what sort of allure it created.

“Such as it is,” Dorian said, “I’m not much of a catch myself.” He tried not to dwell on the various character witnesses from back home he could probably call upon for that. He didn’t doubt that his father would be beating a path to be the first to try. “So, as long as you don’t mind living in a makeshift library, then…”

“And cooking?” Cullen chuckled in response to Dorian’s rapid blinking. “It’s a wonder that you managed to keep such a striking figure on takeout alone.” His only reaction to Dorian’s squawking, of course, was merely to laugh harder. “So long as you promise to help with the clean up, I could probably whip up whatever’s needed within reason.”

“You’ll find that there are very few things I won’t tolerate for a good meal.” Dorian reached out to drape his arm across Cullen’s shoulder. “Still, I believe I promised you a tour, yes?” There was a moment’s hesitation and then, “I should warn you that while your room has a skylight, it does leak a little when it rains.”

“Just a little?” Cullen said, brow arched as he looked over at Dorian. “I’ve been sleeping in a room half normal size with a window facing the sun when it comes up. I think I can deal with a bit of dribble from the ceiling.”

“Oh, you poor lost lamb,” Dorian said. “Let’s rescue you from all that then shall we?”

It was a bit much, even with his usual theatrics, but it made Cullen rumble out another deep laugh, which made it all very much worth it.

*

Part of the benefits of being best friends with a professor was that, by the time his eyes had gone too sore and he had to trade books for a glass of wine, Dorian could still count on Felix to answer the phone. It had to be something of a law of the universe that professors had to keep just as odd hours as their students.

Although, for once, Dorian wasn’t ringing his best friend up to debate seemingly impossible formulas or dish out on clueless customers and students. Or, well, only a dash of the latter, really.

“You know, I’d be upset that you replaced me so quickly,” Felix said, “if the guy in question didn’t sound so well suited. I mean, I haven’t heard you dish this much about someone since… Oh, crap, Dorian.”

“Must you always assume the worst?” Dorian asked. Although, to be fair, Felix had been there to help him whether more than one panic filled storm. “I know what the policy is when it comes to roommates, after all.”

“Ah, right,” Felix remarked archly. “Which is why you subjected me to walking in on you and my roommate back in university.”

“Well, yes,  _ your _ roommate,” Dorian said. “The rules are entirely different in this scenario. And, besides, I would actually like for this to work.” He hissed out a curse under his breath at the length of Felix’s pause on the other end. “Not just for that. I am capable of thinking with my other head more often than not, you know.”

“Of course.” Still, there was something softer to Felix’s tone now even as he teased. “Best get a pad of paper then. Something tells me this list of rules is going to get rather lengthy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where Cullen gets into detail about just what happened in his past. In other words, this is where you should be aware of the tags here that referenced past drug abuse and past abuse (within a relationship). If either bother you feel free to skim through those areas.

Cullen moved in on an unseasonably warm day for only a little bit after the official start of autumn. It was either to weather Cassandra’s disapproving tuts over how they were able to carry the lot of it with only two bags each, but it was quite another to arrive at Skyhold Apartments to a whole welcoming party on the front stoop.

Fortunately, Dorian was apparently far more adept at defusing awkward situations than Cullen was.

“It is entirely possible,” he said, “that I may have overplanned. Although, in my defense, moving into a penthouse apartment  _ can _ be harrowing.”

“Only because you’re books kept trying to flat out  _ murder _ people on the way up the stairs.” Curtis ignored Dorian’s squawking in favor of bouncing off his perch on the railing. “Besides, this means there’s more time for the party, am I right?”

“Party? What party?” Cullen did his best to disguise how his mouth had gone dry all at once, but it probably shouldn’t have still been such a surprise that nothing could be hidden from Leliana.

“For your housewarming,” she said. “A way of getting you acquainted with everyone.”

“You make it sound so formal!” Curtis said. “It’s just gonna be some food that’s definitely not good for any of us and some hands of Wicked Grace.” He grinned. “Or  _ maybe _ Cards Against Humanity.”

Cullen raised his eyebrows as Sera crowed with delight, leaping up to slap her hand against the Iron Bull’s (Dorian had already sworn that, yes, that really was his name and, for his own sanity, not to ask about his sex life with their boss). “I… I’m not entirely sure what that is?” He stumbled back a step when Curtis cheered almost loudly enough to drown out Cassandra’s mutterings of, “Oh, for Lord’s sake…”

“Now, now, that’s enough.” Cullen wasn’t sure exactly when Dorian had gotten behind him, but the man’s hands were on his shoulders in an instant, steering up the stairs. “I would rather like it if you didn’t manage to scare my lovely new roommate away before he’s even officially mine.” He squeezed Cullen’s shoulders once before letting go. “Come on, let’s go get your things squared away. It will take them ages simply to decide on what alcohol would go best with tonight's proceedings, which gives us plenty of time.”

“Y—Yeah, right.” And if Cullen’s smile was somewhat shaky under the weight of Cassandra’s frown against his back, well, at least Dorian didn’t seem to notice.

*

One of the first things that Cullen learned about his new roommate was that Dorian was the complete antithesis of a morning person.

The day after the impromptu party could be easily written off given how Dorian had been determined to outdrink everyone save Bull, who the alcohol barely seemed to touch. Besides, rehab had returned all the rigorous attention to the importance of a schedule that a year spent in a constant haze had tried to strip from him, leaving him well aware that not everyone awoke at the crack of dawn without a thought.

He had needed the run he pushed in, regardless, needing to push back the memories of how Leliana and Cassandra had taken turns hovering at his side the night prior, as if convinced that just the sight of alcohol would send him into a spiral. There was no doubting their good intentions, not after everything, but that didn’t mean he appreciated having a weakness he was already quite aware of highlighted either.

Managing Dorian was far easier, given all he had to do was provide whatever would help his roommate feel more awake in the morning—which could be anything from coffee to greasy alcohol absorbing good—to be looked at like something akin to a holy creature. There weren’t going to be any careful, probing questions about his overall well being, not from Dorian at the very least.

The other man did arch his brow at finding a cup of coffee waiting for him at his spot at the cash register, however, when he came in to open the place proper. “Angling for my position are we, Rutherford?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Cullen said. “I only thought that it would be a good gesture to… I mean, I learned how you take it now. Or at least I think I have? If I messed up you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me.”

Dorian managed two long blinks, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards for a moment as he reached down to pick up the coffee. “That was a joke?” he said. “If anything I thought it would be something of a comfort to be all but locked away from the general public.” 

“Ah, of course.” Cullen tried for a smile, but it must not have done much good if the way Dorian winced was any estimate. Although, to be fair, even he was inclined to that when Cassandra snapped Dorian’s name all but immediately after. “I don’t need people fighting my battles for me,” he muttered at her before turning heel back towards the ovens.

Cassandra didn’t offer an apology when she followed after him all but a minute later, but then Cullen hadn’t been expecting one. She showed her repentance in other ways, besides, by whisking his own creations out alongside her own when the times conceded and even taking it a step further by popping them into the fridge to cool. 

Measuring out just the right amount of ingredients while keeping an eye on the various batters or frostings and creams to judge when each was at the right consistency kept him distracted enough as it was. So much so that he didn’t even realize that there was another person standing in the doorway to the back until Cassandra made one of her by now trademark noises of disgust.

“Ah, hello.” Dorian offered a wave with his free hand before dropping his now empty coffee cup into the trash. “Everything is all set up out there now, which left me with just enough time to get this done.” He reached back around to the counter on the other side of the wall, leaving Cullen to blink when a cup of coffee was thrust under his nose. “It’s entirely possible that I misjudged the amount of sweetness. You didn’t  _ seem _ like a man who take it completely black, so I used about one and a half of the sugar packets with a dash of cream, but it’s always hard to tell the overall effect when you can’t actually have a taste.”

“You’re starting to sound like me.” Cullen wanted to smack his head off the mixing bowl almost the instant those words left his mouth. “Which is probably the last thing you want, sorry.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Dorian said. “You’ve already revealed yourself to be quite clever, you know. And considerate...which is precisely why I brought the coffee.” His expression was sheepish when Cullen looked back up at him. “I seem to have a tendency to play the ass even when I don’t mean to. Earlier, I merely thought that… Well,  _ I  _  hate the morning rush and I’m not even the one who has had to be here since three in the morning.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Cullen said. “You just need to schedule things right. Not drinking right before the start of an opening shift helps, of course.”

He actually managed to laugh at Dorian’s exaggerated gasp of horror this time, even more so when it was followed up by the sound of Sera blowing raspberries while stocking the dishware into its proper places.

“Not all of us can make living like a cleric look so good,” Dorian said. “But I know for a fact you have at  _ least _ a good five minutes or more before all of those cupcakes are cool enough to frost. So I’m relying on Cassandra to make sure you actually take a moment to breathe while I am off fighting the horrors that are the outside tables.”

Cullen chuckled as the other man swept out, picking up his coffee. He wondered if he should tell Dorian how close he had come to getting his order correct or whether he should allow the barista to keep guessing. He had a sense that the possible drinks he could receive as a result could prove interesting to say the least.

It took him a few sips to realize that Cassandra had stopped her work to stare at him. “Sorry, did I miss one of the alarms?” he asked.

“No, it is not that.” Cassandra sighed, looking surprisingly discomforted. “You have yet to tell him?”

Despite the warmth of the coffee had had just drunk, Cullen’s insides felt chilled. “It isn’t an easy story to tell,” he said.

“That I can understand,” Cassandra said, “but with Dorian how he is…” She sighed. “He will not know what to watch for if you do not tell him.”

Cullen grit his teeth, forcing his hackles not to rise. “I don’t need more watching,” he said. “And, besides, it was you and Leliana who helped convince him to take me into his space in the first place.”

“It is not as though there were many options.” Fortunately the buzz of one of the ovens, interrupted her, making her turn to slide her mitts on to ease the pans of various breads from the oven. “I merely ask that you be careful.”

“Yes,” Cullen muttered, allowing the words to be swallowed up behind the rim of his coffee cup, “because we all know what happens when I’m not.”

*

It took Dorian barely a week to figure out that he was living with a chronic over worker.

Since everyone was, strictly speaking, still playing catchup at this point, it wasn’t as though the extra help wasn’t appreciated. Still, it was somewhat baffling to work with someone who hardly ever needed to fake their smiles and to have someone always ready to spring to his aid instead of either being up to their elbows in their own work already or that blew a raspberry at him when he tried to ask.

He figured that it was fairly easy to figure out which was which between the two.

Still, it was hard to pinpoint what exactly it was Cullen did for  _ fun _ . The runs he went on either before work or after Josephine had ushered him out of the bakery at last counted perhaps. Yet he had turned down just about every outing Dorian had offered and was always locked away in his bedroom by the time he got home.

Certainly no one with such a wicked sense of humor could be so prim and proper.

Perhaps Dorian wouldn’t have even noticed it were it not for the close eye he had begun to keep trained on Cullen. 

The man, strictly speaking, should have been in the back anyway, but their shelves were already stocked enough that it didn’t truly matter and Cassandra was more than prepared to keep ahead of the sandwich orders now that the lunch rush was over. Besides, Dorian was fairly certain that their regular collection of suburban mothers had doubled since Cullen had started, all of them enjoying far too much how the man would blush under the slightest compliment.

It also meant that they were far less likely to sneer their orders to Dorian, who had broken their hearts apparently by all but writing onto his name tag that he preferred dicks.

He had the decency to wait until the ladies had bustled away with their drinks to bring it up, catching Cullen by the elbow with a raised eyebrow. “Starting in a little early today, are we?” He smiled at the rush of blinks he received. “You were slurring just a touch back there. And here I was worried that you weren’t enjoying yourself enough.”

He had been expecting one of Cullen’s usual blushes, not for the man’s face to all but drain of color instead, eyes going wide.

“Was it that obvious?” Cullen asked. 

“Not enough to get you into trouble.” If that was what Cullen was so concerned about then Dorian could understand. He certainly hadn’t received any pity himself the one time he had tried to come to work when hungover, after all. “I’m hardly about to sell you out either, so no worries there.”

“No, I didn’t think you…” Cullen ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends slightly before letting go. “I need to be more careful.”

Dorian might have pried a touch, yet he had seen how well Cullen reacted to that sort of thing from Cassandra already. Even Leliana received a cool look to match her own whenever she tried to probe into Cullen’s personal life.

So instead he merely reached up to clap the other man on the shoulder, squeezing once before letting go. “That you do,” he admitted, “but I’ll be here to provide backup as needed.”

The smile he got in return was warm enough to remove at least  _ half _ of the worry from Cullen’s face, which Dorian saw no reason why not to claim as a personal victory.

*

Of all the people to come knocking on his door on a Sunday morning, the last person Dorian would have expected would be Cassandra. Unfortunately for her, even her steely demeanor wasn’t enough to scare him into being welcoming at such an ungodly hour on his day off.

“Cassandra! I would offer you coffee, but the last thing I want for you is to stay.”

“Charming as ever,” Cassandra snorted. “I was wondering if Cullen was here.” It was only then that Dorian took in the rather professional running gear she was kicked out in.

“Oh, not you too.” He rolled his eyes in response to the amusement that caused her brow to arch. “I’m fairly sure he’s already headed out without you, but, by all means, come in and check.”

Dorian certainly had no intentions of staying up past the time it took for Cassandra to leave, but he didn’t see much harm in checking the fridge either for a quick snack or to plan out what he could scrounge for a meal once he awoke properly. The whole space had become much better stocked now that Cullen was living there, which left him with far more options than whatever takeout box looked freshest.

“I meant to surprise him,” Cassandra said, as she trucked back down the hall. “It shouldn’t be much of a bother to catch up with him, however. Do you know what his route might…”

Dorian’s brow furrowed when the rest of her words slid away, straightening up to glance back over his shoulder at her. His confusion only mounted when he realized that her gaze was fixed upon her fridge. “Do you want food?” he asked. “My fascination with the sport will never match yours, but I’ve heard that running with a full belly can spell disaster.”

“No, it’s not…” Cassandra frowned, dragging her eyes back up to Dorian. “You have so much wine.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” Dorian said. “Because I can promise you’re not seeing the whole picture.” He rocked forward to open up one of the cabinets, allowing Cassandra to get a clear view of the liquors and various mixes inside of it.

“I can’t believe this!” Cassandra snapped. “Even you cannot be this callous, Dorian.”

Dorian crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the countertop. “Well,” he said, “this certainly is a twist on the normal lecture I receive.”

“I would hope so,” Cassandra said. “Especially when Cullen…” She trailed off, taking in the furrow that knitted Dorian’s brow. “He has not told you.”

“Told me what?” Despite himself, Dorian felt something terribly akin to panic twisting in his stomach. “What does any of this have to do with Cullen?”

Cassandra opened her mouth only to shut it a moment later, shaking her head. “No,” she said, “that is something you can ask him.” And just like that, in absolute frustrating precision, she was gone.

It wasn’t as if Dorian could drag himself back to bed after something like that either. His mind was whirling with too many thoughts to convince his body to settle back down. Even one of Cullen’s chocolate croissants wasn’t enough to distract him, even with the care he had to take to reheat it in the oven instead of the microwave since his roommate had gasped like he was some sort of heathen the last time he was caught at just that.

That Cullen was able to let himself back in some hours later, smiling like he had not a care in the world, only added insult to injury. He did stop short at discovering Dorian on the couch, though. 

“What are you doing up this early?” He frowned at the dirty plate on the battered coffee table, bending down to pick it up. “You already ate too? I thought I could make you something after my shower maybe.”

“At any other time that would sound delightful.” Dorian sighed when Cullen turned to look over his shoulder from where he was in the kitchen, a frown marring those handsome features. “I take it Cassandra didn’t catch up with you then?”

“No.” Cullen dropped the plate into the sink without bothering to stop to clean it for once as he hurried back over to Dorian’s side. “Why would she… Is something the matter? Did she say something to you?”

“It’s more about what she  _ didn’t _ say,” Dorian said. He toyed with one of the fraying ends of the blanket draped over the back of the couch. He wanted to at least try for some level of tact, but this didn’t really seem the sort of thing that allowed one that. “Is there a reason why Cassandra would be so perturbed by my alcohol supply? All of which she’s already seen before, I assure you!”

Cullen swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the floor before swooping up to stare into the window directly past Dorian’s shoulder. “I suppose you have your own ideas,” he said.

“I… Well, yes.” Dorian let his hand drop away from the blanket, abandoning such an obvious tell. There was no way to speak without making a mess of things one way or another, so best to simply leap towards the opening that had been made. “You might not have touched the stuff in my presence, but your kind do tend to have a private stash of sorts.”

“A private…” That, of all things, was what dragged Cullen’s gaze back to him. “What?”  

Dorian threw up his hands, tone turning sharp as exasperation tore away at his apprehension. “You slur your words when you think no one will notice and have Cassandra up here policing my liquor stash. You… You’re an alcoholic!”

Cullen’s eyes rounded out far enough that Dorian was braced for a shouting match, but what he got instead was Cullen doubling over to clutch at his knees as his shoulders shook his laughter.

“This… This isn’t funny!”

“No, no, of course not.” There was still a ghost of a smile on Cullen’s lips as he stood up, though, rubbing his heels against his eyes. “It’s only that… Well, about a year ago you would have been right. Or somewhat, I guess. The booze came later to keep the high going longer.” His lips pressed into a hard line when he realized exactly what had slipped out, watching Dorian as the man before him inhaled sharply.

“This doesn’t seem the conversation to have on your feet,” Dorian said, patting the empty space on the couch next to him.

“No.” Cullen’s breath was a shaky exhale, answering smile little more than a twitch of lips at best. “It really isn’t.”

*

Cullen had had to relay all of this so many times already that it was more through instinct than anything else that he was able to select where to start. Things hadn’t begun the moment he joined up with the army, after all. No, that had all been saved for the moment he had been selected for the more specialized branch of the Templar Unit.

Back then it had seemed like a step towards all that he had signed up to do—protecting those that didn’t have the ability to do so themselves. And, to be fair, that had certainly  _ seemed _ like what the Templars were doing back then. His unit had been guarding the group of aid workers helping those refugees that had been displaced, after all, trying to lead all to the safe zone that seemed to be shrinking by the day.

He knew more than a few of the members of his unit had been displeased over their orders, wanting to join the Wardens in the thick of the action, but all Cullen could remember was feeling fulfilled each day, despite all the barely controlled mayhem. He wouldn’t lie and make the claim that he could remember every one of their names, but he did still dream of their faces from time to time or hear the rhythm of their voices if he let his memory drift.

There was no detail he couldn’t forget about the aid workers, though. Not when, bit by bit, whole batches of them began to disappear.

Their commanding officer, Meredith Stannard, had been quick to dispel panic through explaining that another unit had simply begun to escort those people to a new safe zone. Looking back on it, Cullen wanted to spit on his naivety in that moment; of the simple, blind trust that none of them had heard of this new area simply due to the line of confidentiality.

As it was, he had kept right on trusting until the moment that the news came of that same unit going rouge. Which, of course, had come directly on the heels of realizing that the blonde relief worker—the one who used his smart mouth that shot off near anarchist views—hadn’t snuck off to visit the man everyone had pretended not to realize was his boyfriend. Instead, as it had rapidly become clear, he had disappeared on Cullen’s own watch.

To say that Cullen launched into forming a plan sounded like an understatement now. It had been  _ his _ fault, after all, and, even if it hadn’t been, it had still needed to be rectified in all haste.

When he had brought his plan to Meredith, however, she had all but torn it apart, finding a flaw in each detail. That had gone on for a week until, by the end, when there had been nothing left to it for even her to quibble over she had begun to start with the excuses. Each one had grown more transparent as time went on, of course.

The workers could have simply deserted—to  _ where _ when the bloodshed had been closing in from all sides?

Plans for a rescue mission were being formed elsewhere, making tossing her own men in useless. But then why had not a word of such efforts trickled down to those actually affected by it? 

By the time the second week had come to a close, full blown arguments could be heard being cast between the commanding officer in her tent with her second in command. At last, Cullen had been told to simply drop the matter and accept that those missing were dead.

That such orders would have been deemed unacceptable by Cullen would have gone without saying. The real surprise had been how many had agreed with him, volunteering to join the rescue plan he had had ready for what had felt like ages now, all ready to risk serious charges if it meant getting their own—be they combat officers or not—back safe.

Perhaps he didn’t need to explain that not all were brought back—maybe that was something already assumed through his tone—but it was  _ important _ . All the more so when he could remember running through each name, each face, even as he lead the charge to free them all. Even more so when he had to clutch Anders to him in the plane as the barren remains of the makeshift fort—and prison—were left behind because the man simply couldn’t stop screaming unlike the blank faces of all the others.

Although with all the information that came out later, in the wake of the interviews and the like, Cullen couldn’t begrudge the man such a reaction (not that he had even then). It left some serious marks on the psyche to be tortured, after all, even more so when part of that had been watching your lover lose his head.

The medal that got pinned to his chest later or the accolades spread throughout the press could do nothing to wipe that away. Although it had been with no small level of satisfaction that Meredith’s own role as insider was revealed, leading to her being pushed into a nameless, high security prison.

(He had never regretted the rumors that she had gone mad in that place, but he thought he could be forgiven for wanting to leave that out of the primary part of the story.)

He had known that the Templars would have loved nothing more than to be able to keep him on, using his tale of “heroism” to boost their own approval ratings back up, but he had left his post at the soonest opportunity that arrived. He had been—and remained—too disillusioned to be able to serve. 

He had settled into exactly what everyone had expected him to do after that, picking up a few odd jobs while compensating his meetings at the VA with regular therapy sessions.

And it had been there that he had met Raleigh Samson.

Kicked out of the Templars right on the heels of Cullen entering for “fraternizing” with the locals, a statement that became a lot clearer after realizing that Meredith had been the one to make it. Even with that black smear expunged, however, he hadn’t wanted to go back.

It had been part of what had drawn Cullen to him, to be fair. After having his natural ability to care pushed to the breaking point it had been something of a revelation to be around someone who simply...didn’t.

That Samson had been the one to search him out after meetings had only accelerated things. At the start, it had been all about getting to know the man who had knocked “that bitch” down. It had no doubt started out at as the truth, yet after a week that ended with Cullen being pushed against the various flat surfaces of Samson’s apartment it had begun to feel a lot more like a cover.

He had ignored the disapproving looks those close to him shot Samon’s way, simply riding the high of simply being  _ wanted _ and nothing more. There was a sort of comfort in easing away from all his responsibilities bit by bit to simply indulge in whatever it was that felt good on any given day.

Still, his sense of duty had won out in the end, if not the genuine concern he could see in his family and friend’s eyes over a dinner turned makeshift intervention staged after the revelation that he had given up going to the VA. It hadn’t been the fact that he was in a relationship that had unnerved them so much as the condepent nature of it and, in the end, Cullen hadn’t been able to fault them for that.

Samson must have caught wind of it all, though, since it was right around when Cullen was considering suggesting a break that his then boyfriend had introduced him to his first hit of lyrium. 

The stuff had been peddled out behind the VA more than once, but Cullen had  _ trusted _ Samson, who had promised it had roughly the same qualities as pot. Harmless enough if monitored and with the alluring promise of being able to completely snuff out the memories that still circled around Cullen’s mind.

That last detail, of course, had been the only true part of Samson’s promises. Although, even then, it was only half of one as the rush that the prick of the needle brought never did discriminate about what memories it took. Which meant he could barely remember the calls Samson erased from his phone or the people that got turned away at the door of their new. The bruises had been easier to keep track of, if only due to the fact that Samson began to give him more if he questioned them too strongly. 

In the end, it had been much simpler to just accept that he had somehow done  _ something _ to deserve it or, somehow even worse, to swallow down the bitterness that had risen in his mouth when he questioned coming to with obvious signs of sex only to hear, “What’s the matter? You  _ wanted _ it.”

The only shreds of his former life that he had strove to cling to had been his friendship with Leliana and Cassandra. Although, to be fair, part of that had been due to the women’s own determination as well.

He could only meet with them when Samson was off placing deals elsewhere, but even that had been a breath of fresh air amongst everything else—the closest to being normal he had been able to get anymore.

Things had taken a sharp turn in the dead of winter, on a sort of night were the cold felt as though it was trying to chill the hollows of your teeth along with the rest of you. The girls had insisted on walking him home, still unimpressed by the state of he was in even after all the warm foods and drinks that had been pressed on him in the restaurant.

All of that had been fine with Cullen even able to smile pressed in between the comforting weights of his friend’s bodies. But then he had opened the door to the apartment to find that Samson was already back. 

There had been no way of stopping voices from raising, of course, not when Cassandra and Leliana surged as one to defend him from the accusations that Samson through at him immediately. It had been when the man had begun to get into his friends’ faces, however, that Cullen had recovered a semblance of his old self.

No one had the right to attack the people he cared about in such a way, even if he had learned to stomach such comments himself.

He had more than slightly predicted the blow that came his way, but he had lose too much of his old muscle to brace for it the way he used to, so down he had gone. Only it hadn’t been the floor his head had hit—it had been the sharp edge of the coffee table.

Samson, as per Cassandra’s retelling, had fretted over taking him to the hospital right up until Leliana pointed out that he would get more time under the law for murder than for drugs. And serve time he had—and still was—under the plea bargain that Cullen had entered into in exchange for testifying at Samson’s trial to get mandatory rehabilitation and a restraining order for his own safety of mind.

*

The stretch of silence that ensued after Cullen was done explaining himself didn’t come as a surprise. He had spent enough time forcing his story out of himself to others to know that the reactions that came after someone had time to gather their thoughts were typically better. 

Not that that made the waiting any easier, of course. As it was, Cullen was starting to fear that he might actually work a thread loose from one of the various throw pillows on the couch with all his fidgeting by the time that Dorian finally spoke.

“So it wasn’t alcohol, after all.” He shook his head, lips pressing into a hard line. “But the way you slurred at work this week…”

“That...uh…” Cullen rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Turns out getting your head whacked in leaves you with more than just damaged hearing? I… Usually I can control it better, but sometimes I just… When I feel comfortable I sometimes slip up and—”

He was cut off by a pillow being thrown into his face as much as the way Dorian sprung up from the couch all at once. “So you were actually feeling  _ comfortable _ and I made you…” He didn’t wait for the apology Cullen had at the ready, spinning away on his heel to storm into the kitchen. “I am fully capable of being an ass, as you may have noticed, but I  _ do _ try not to be one to my friends.”

“But it wasn’t your fault!” Cullen insisted, scrambling to get off the couch himself.

“Kind as it is for you to try,” Dorian said, “I’m not going to let you lift all the blame from my shoulders. At least now I know how to fix it.” Which was precisely when he snagged a garbage bag from the cabinet to start loading his wine into from the fridge.

“No!” Cullen seized onto Dorian’s wrist before the other man could get much further. “This is precisely what I  _ didn’t _ want. You shouldn’t have to rework your whole life around… Just because my head’s all messed up you shouldn’t have to—”

“Hey now.” Dorian pressed a gentle finger to his mouth before smoothing a hand over the shoulders he hadn’t realized had begun to shake. “I’m not about such a lovely man debase himself before me. Besides, you’re simply...different. Something, which you might have noticed, more than a few of our shared acquaintances are as well. Which is part of why I plan on splitting my liquor supply between Curtis and Bull’s and Josephine and Leliana’s apartments respectively.” He shook the bag, smiling as the bottles rankled together. “Want to help? One is sure to have leftovers for us to snag for dinner and the other might just offer us lunch.”

Cullen’s laughter was shaky, but at least it wasn’t forced. “Sounds like a plan.”


	4. Chapter 4

Despite wanting to stay late to ensure that everything ran smoothly at the start of a fresh week, every other Monday left Cullen unable to allow himself to tarry. He needed to be on time to catch the bus up into Redcliffe, after all, especially when it would still take him a fair amount of time to hike the rest of the way to the profession red-bricked building that held Wynne’s office.

Or,  _ Doctor  _ Wynne rather, his therapist.

For all that she looked as though she was the type to be freshly baking the cookies in the jar on her desk—and actually  _ did _ for what Cullen had heard—Wynne was a woman to be reckoned with. She had refused to be edged away from areas of conflict of Cullen’s more than once, not so much as batting an eye when he lost his temper with such tactics once. Although she had accepted the flowers he had brought as apology for their next session with a small smile and a squeeze on his shoulder.

She had also made it absolutely clear that only Cullen could decide if any information shared between them was released, which provided a sense of safety that Cullen hadn’t been able to hold onto for quite some time.

She had been proud of him for opening up to Dorian, especially given how the other man had responded. Her probes into his attempts at extending his social life had been gentle, placing no judgement when he claimed, at least half truthfully, that work was taking precedence now. She had suggested, around the end of their session, however, that if wanted to start building bridges then it would no doubt be best to start with Dorian.

“It sounds as though he’s already fond of you.” She quirked a brow at Cullen’s snort, although her small smile was more amused than anything else. “Try to suggest something you both might enjoy. I think you would be surprised at the results.”

The building he had to jog to next was a gym wedged near the end of Redcliffe’s business district, the river rushing behind it near close enough to lap at the sides when the rainfall was high enough. He returned the wave that Donnic sent his way when he came in along with at least half the smile, but Aveline was already in the ring waiting for him.

He had first crossed paths with her in rehab, although she had been there to distribute care instead of receiving it. Referring to her as “Miss Vallen” during their first session together had earned him a cool raise of the eyebrows, along with a promise that she had certainly whapped people upside the head for less.

“It would be  _ Mrs. _ Vallen anyway.” That had been quickly followed by a hard look being leveled Cullen’s way before he even had the chance to open his mouth again. “ _ Don’t _ .”

She had accepted the offer to see him outside of rehab, in a somewhat makeshift position as his mentor, by tugging him into a hug. Being able to meet in the gym owned by her husband was simply a continuation of Aveline’s occasionally somewhat “alternative” ways towards healing.

Endorphins were good for the health, after all, and Cullen had needed to relearn his balance right from the start.

That he couldn’t hide his arms—and thus any track marks—was an added benefit for himself as much as it was for Aveline.

Aveline certainly wasn’t above sending her gloved fist whizzing by his good ear, though, when he rolled his eyes at the near instant way she agreed with Wynne’s suggestion.

“For God’s sake, Rutherford,” she said, “it’s not like I want you to court the boy.”

“Are you sure?” Cullen took the preemptive measure of bouncing back a few paces before continuing. “I’ve heard you have some excellent ideas along that vein. Something about copper marigolds?” He chuckled at the near instantaneous way Aveline’s face flushed with color, even if it did mean he wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid getting wrapped in a headlock.

“I regret ever telling you that story,” Aveline grumbled.

“In my defence,” Cullen said, patting at the arm wound around his neck, “Donnic thinks it’s a  _ lovely _ story.”

“I do!” Donnic hollered over from the front desk. “It’s a lovely tale of love overcoming all obstacles  _ and _ serves a warning as why you should never get a Hawke involved with plotting romance.” He spread out his hands. “Who can beat that?”

Aveline let Cullen with a huff, but there was a small, warm smile curling her way onto her lips all the same. “You’ll never know unless you try, Cullen,” she said, “and this boy sounds to genuinely like you. Give it a try.” She shook her head when Cullen sighed. “Come now, do it right and you won’t even have to look into buying a goat.”

“A  _ what _ ?” Cullen asked before having to thrust his arms up to block another of Aveline’s blows, her laughter ringing in his ears.

*

In the end, there was no need for a goat to be involved. Or, well, perhaps it was more accurate to say that the goat was briefly considered then set aside in favor of a more ambitious move. 

It probably would have been better to start at the beginning.

He could have skipped out on the task assigned to him, of course, but there wasn’t a single excuse that wouldn’t leave him being met with differing yet ultimately similar looks of disappointment. None of this was helped by the fact that both women had known him well enough to phrase it with the undercurrent of an order.

So, truth be told, he  _ wanted _ to work towards their suggestions...if it weren’t so difficult to come up with something that Dorian would want to do.

He knew what sort of things Dorian liked to do, so that much wasn’t an issue. The more problematic part was that so much of what his roommate did centered around things that Cullen very certainly could  _ not _ do or, at least, not so freshly out of rehab.

So the result was that by Sunday, the advent of a day off for both of them, Cullen didn’t have any sort of solid plan. Or, at least, nothing outside of some pieced together thoughts that resulted in the daunting strategy of “winging” it.

He was half watching some sitcom that had been running on rerun seasons by the time Dorian finally stumbled out of bed. His roommate stopped to blink at him in bewilderment on the way, as though it was still strange to discover Cullen in what had before been only his space.

“Why aren’t you out with Cassandra?” Dorian asked. “She’s usually dragged you off to lunch by this time so that she can play her part of mother hen to the hilt. Did it already happen?” He brightened up abruptly, his usual morning grogginess—or afternoon in this case—sliding away. “Does that mean you brought back leftovers?”

“No.” Cullen couldn’t keep from chuckling at the near instantaneous pout that Dorian donned at that. “I thought you might want to go out together. I mean, I’ve been here for at least a few weeks now and it still feels like there’s a lot that I haven’t seen.”

Dorian was silent for such a long moment that Cullen was half afraid that he was about to be turned down. The brilliant smile that flared to life on the man’s face an instant later, though, more than made up for it. “I know just the place,” he said. “Just give me a moment to look decent.”

“Alright.” The burst of relief in his chest made Cullen feel like something of a fool, but it was too pleasant for him to try suppressing it or the grin that followed. “I guess I should do the same, huh?”

“Please,” Dorian remarked, already spinning on his heel back towards his room, “you barely have to try to look good.” 

“Pretty sure you’ve got our positions reversed,” Cullen mumbled. 

He didn’t mean for Dorian to catch it, not entirely, but the man’s face was unexpectedly soft as he rubbed a hand through Cullen’s curls. “Don’t argue with me when it comes to aesthetics,” he said. “I  _ always _ win.”

“So you say to the man who grew up with three siblings.” The mood was too warm for Cullen to want to spoil it with arguing, though, so he merely pushed up from the couch, finding a smile easy to slide onto his face. “Anything I should bring with me?”

“Your wallet is a definite,” Dorian said, “and your phone in case we get lost. Keeping an open mind certainly would help as well.”

“You’re an easy man to trust, don’t worry,” Cullen chuckled.

“Huh.” Dorian’s eyelashes fluttered rapidly as he blinked. “That’s new.” He had spun on his heel to head down to his side of the apartment before Cullen could try to probe further, which was perhaps just as good.

*

Given who was serving as his makeshift tour guide, Cullen had been prepared for being dragged off to the array of stores that decorated Haven’s miniaturized main drag. Having his back account buoyed with something other than a pension had left him with a somewhat silly liberated feeling as well and he wasn’t prideful enough to acknowledge that quite a few material things in his life could use some replenishing.

He had arched a brow over being steered towards a huge group of tents that had all the appearance of a farmer's market, but the urge to keep that blinding smile on Dorian’s face had won out. Just as well that it had, as it turned out, since underestimating what was in the Hinterlands was dangerously unwise.

“I refuse to believe it’s been two  _ hours _ since we went in,” Cullen said. “That’s not even…” He sighed, almost literally able to feel the fight drain out of him. “Actually, no, to be fair it’s all about as realistic as the fact that I managed to purchase new outfits in from the same man that sold us on trying to make curry for the night.”

“And some things to decorate your room with besides,” Dorian said, shaking the paper bags in his hands. “The poor place looks hardly lived in with how neatly you make your bed come morning.” 

Cullen’s smile was only half forced as he made himself remember that Dorian was merely making conversation, not picking apart his faults. “Glow in the dark stars are going to help that, huh?” he asked.

“Of course!” Dorian declared. “They give the place character  _ and _ we can make actual constellations with them. It’s a far better plan than unleashing Sera on your walls, trust me.”

“Now that,” Cullen said, “sounds like it has a story to it.”

“Well, I mean…” Dorian groaned. “It’s not that she’s a  _ bad _ artist, alright? Far from it, in fact. But that doesn’t stop her from adding in crude details and claiming it’s her  _ signature _ .”

“Ah.” Cullen pursed his lips, eyes narrowing a touch. “Is that why there’s a middle finger etched into the corner of the living room?”

“What?” Dorian squawked. “I thought I got them all!” He grabbed hold of Cullen’s shoulder, tugging him in close. “You’re helping me get paint tomorrow to get rid of that. Perhaps we can even find something to put over your own room in the process.”

“You...want to do this again?” Spots of color shot across Cullen’s cheeks when Dorian peered over at him in bewilderment. “I only mean… You might want to put up with… Or that is…” He could almost feel his tongue tripping over itself in his mouth, making his throat grow tighter by the second. Except then there was a hand on his arm, squeezing with just enough pressure to stabilize him.

“I can think of quite a few reasons,” Dorian said, “to spend time in the company of such a lovely man. Let alone one who’s my friend.”

“Right.” Cullen’s next breath eased out of him with the force of a punch, yet it kickstarted his lungs all at once. “And the free labor when it comes to painting is only a perk, of course.”

“Hey, I keep you around for other reasons too,” Dorian said, knocking his own bags against Cullen’s. “Like cooking, clearly. You do not want to see the disaster I manage to create in the kitchen.”

“Looks like I’ll have to take that risk,” Cullen said, “because there’s no way I’m letting you get out of helping with prep.” He laughed at Dorian’s appalled look, feeling far lighter than usual the whole way home, even with Dorian’s attempts to convince him of what a terrible idea it was to let him try any semblance of cooking.

Besides, for all that the necessary vegetables were a touch too unevenly cut and the whole thing was over spiced enough to force Cullen to require a constant glass of milk, despite Dorian’s cackles, the overall dish was as perfect as the moment it created. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it didn't feature quite as heavily as originally planned [ here's the recipe for the curry dish that Cullen ropes Dorian into helping to make.](http://www.indiansimmer.com/2013/04/chicken-curry.html)


	5. Chapter 5

Dorian would always approach the deepening into true autumn with some level of trepidation. He was fairly sure it was a sense all those working in customer service had overtake them at the realization that the coming months would all be one holiday rolling into another. And, to be entirely honest, working in a college town tended to make those concerns all the more heightened.

Still, everyone in the bakery adored—or had been made to over prolonged, somewhat exasperated exposure—the holiday that kickstarted all the rest. It was, as stated by their illustrious leader, something that mass media could pry from their cold, very dead hands.

None of that, though, was enough to prepare Dorian for the near saccharine sweetness that he was hit with as soon as he opened up his apartment. Strangely enough, Sera’s crows of delight were far more expected.

“Look who came to join the party!”

“Is that what this is?” Dorian asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “And here I thought I had wandered into a diabetic’s worst nightmare.”

“Sorry!” Cullen ducked out from around Cassandra, the heat of the kitchen having already reduced his curls to a far too adorable frizz.  “Cassandra and I were debating what flavors should be switched out for Halloween, then Sera invited herself up to taste test, and...well…” He gestured sheepishly around at the cluttered counter then over to Sera, who was still licking enthusiastically at bright frosting on a wooden spoon.

“Such is the way of things around these parts.” Dorian shifted over to throw open the windows that had apparently gone forgotten, sighing in relief at the sensation of the cool air trickling in from outside. “I fear I’ll have to volunteer myself to help then since Sera’s tastes typically don’t stray beyond a simple ‘sugar is good’.” He squawked at the glob of frosting flicked his way from the end of the spoon, smearing it over Cullen’s nose when the man dared to laugh at his situation.

By the end, Dorian thought their menu had found a general sort of balance. All of Sera’s creations were sure to appeal to the younger masses, which, to be fair, would include more than a few college students as well. Each color was tinted to near impossible brightness from the green of the slime cupcake to that of the vampire “blood” one. It was Dorian’s efforts that ensured the showcasing of alternatives, like the little mint mice with ears fashioned from licorice or ghostly representations fashioned out of meringue.

The only true difficulty was trying to look at all the various creations and the supplies that made them without feeling his stomach churn. 

“I can still feel sugar on my  _ teeth _ .” Dorian grimaced as he ran the tip of his tongue over his front teeth. “Is that normal?”

“Only for weak arses like you,” Sera said, hopping down off her perch on the stool. “Not it on the cleanup too. Already spent the whole day cleaning up your lot’s messes.”

“Wouldn’t do to spoil us,” Cullen agreed with a hint of a smile. “Can I convince you to stay long enough to get some actual food into you, though?”

“Nah,” Sera said. “Gotta get home to make sure the Widdle does her own eating. See you at arse clock tomorrow!”

“Widdle?” Cullen frowned at the door as it slammed shut then glanced over at Cassandra and Dorian in turn. “Is that her pet?”

“Girlfriend actually,” Dorian said. “A researcher like myself. Well, in another field of study, but…” He could sense Cassandra’s curious gaze upon him, causing the back of his neck to prickle, but he refused to look up from where he was trying to work frosting away from his cuticles.

For all that Cullen had shown himself to be fine with the lay of the land so far, Dorian had learned the hard way that there could be quite a difference between accepting in the abstract and having to do so when it was smack in front of you. Perhaps even more so when Cullen’s initial experience with another man—the only one as far as Dorian knew—had been so disastrous.

“No wonder she had to get home then.” Cullen cast a grin over his shoulder at Dorian as he dumped the majority of the dirty dishes into the sink. “You hardly remember to eat when you’re  _ not _ buried in a book. Good thing you and this ‘Widdle’ have someone around to keep you fed and watered.”

Dorian had to swallow hard before he could be certain his voice wouldn’t come out suspiciously strained. “Indeed. Thank God for that.”

*

When Cullen had promised that he wouldn’t need any accommodations in the workplace he hadn’t been  _ lying _ . It was only that the support he already had never failed to leave him a fumbling mess.

He didn’t mean to shame hearing aids as a whole, of course. Truth be told, he envied those that could wear the devices with ease, as though the little machines were simply the finishing touches on their outfits. He was simply too hyper focused on the damn things to get away with that; not that the glances full of pity and probing questions ever helped to  _ not _ leave him scraped raw.

Either way, it all had seemed like a moot point when he would be spending a considerable amount of his time on the clock back in the kitchens. There was plenty of noise back there, of course, but Cassandra knew how to work around him, alerting him to her presence or if something needed minding with a careful rap.

She had been the one, though, to alert him that, in coming days, it would probably be best for him to bring the hearing aids in with him to work. It had sounded strange at the time, but repeated evidence had long since taught him not to ignore Cassandra’s warnings.

Now, surveying the state of the main floor for himself, things made a little more sense.

“All this over the state of our  _ leaves _ ?” Cullen said.

“Now, now, one should never underestimate the draw of good aesthetics.” There was something a tad bit unnerving about talking with Dorian when his customer service smile was so firmly set in place. “And, besides, it’s not just that. It’s also parents’ weekend. You know, since whatever gods might be out there clearly don’t hate us enough already.”

“Bunch of ponced up pricks with sticks up there…” 

Cullen actually had to lift his head up from the piping—even with prep work they still ran out of things like mad—to see what had managed to cut Sera off at the pass. No matter how often she was spoken to about it, her colorful commentary over the day had become as familiar a background noise as the bustle of voices raised over coffee.

He quirked an eyebrow when he saw it was only Josephine, but his bewilderment rapidly shifted into something far more uncomfortable when she shifted the full weight of her half professional, half pleading smile on him.

“No,” he blurted out. Not that it was a stance he could keep when Josephine's face dropped almost at once. “I mean, I’m really not suited for… Wouldn’t it be better if…” His head darted around, stomach sinking further when Cassandra could only cast him a sympathetic look while their dishwasher spread out her still soapy hands.

“Can’t go up unless it gets dicey,” Sera said. “House rules and all that.”

“Right.” Cullen did his best to ignore how it took far longer than necessary to set the dials on his hearing aids given the temor that emerged in his hands. “I can manage until the rush from lunch is over.”

All he had to do was remind himself that he wouldn’t be alone out there. Although it was difficult to remember that Dorian was actually out there bustling around after he opened the door to a total upheaval of noise.

It helped, for the most part, that Dorian was quite ready to be the showman while Cullen filled whatever orders he could. When customers were passed his way it was as though each had been screened with care by his coworker, leaving him with families with children filled with questions about the sweets behind the display case or regulars who might pause for a second over being made to repeat orders meant to be known but were full of smiles nonetheless.

He  _ really _ should have known better then to expect that to last, though.

The woman who pressed forward next didn’t even bother to glance up from her phone as she ordered. Were the bakery at its normal pace that alone wouldn’t have made it such a hardship to hear her, but, as it was, Cullen could only piece together bits of her sentence.

“I want one tall...machito...make sure it’s hot.”

Cullen has to bite back the urge to inform her that not every place which serves coffee is exactly like Starbucks. As it is, he’s just happy that he has a reasonable enough knowledge to translate to the proper size and that it’s a drink without too much in the way of frills.

Or, at least, that’s what he thought until he set the drink down in front of the woman, watching her nose crinkle as she peeked under the lid. It’s her question that throws him for a loop more than anything else, though.

“Why is there foam in this?”

“Um…” Cullen can feel the back of his neck heating up in a way that is entirely unhelpful when faced with such a strong scowl right off the bat. “It’s what you asked for, ma’am?”

Clearly this was the wrong response to go with or perhaps he simply shouldn’t have let it end in such an upturned way at the end. Either way, he can barely keep from wincing as the woman slams the container back down onto the counter hard enough to spill some out over his fingers.

“It is very much not!” the woman said. “Or are you trying to suggest I don’t know my own order?”

“N—No, ma’am, of course not.” The sutter set in now because of  _ course _ it had to. Cullen can see Dorian trying to edge over out of the corner of his eye, which isn’t nearly as helpful as it should be. He doesn’t need a reminder that he’s crap at this, to be perfectly honest. “It’s only that—”

“My, my.” A voice of that sort was rounded out with far too much culture to feel as though it belonged in a little business shifted off the main drag of Haven. It was a thought only further cemented after the crowds seemed to all but part for the woman in question, all done up in a pantsuit of pristine white fabric, hair shorn to bring the swift, high cut of her cheekbones out to full effect. “What is all this commotion about?”

The change that came over the customer’s face was so abrupt that Cullen felt somewhat dazzled under the full shine of her smile. “Oh, Madame de Fer!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry you had to catch me in such a state. I apparently overestimated the competence of the staff here.”

“Did you now?” The woman’s eyes slid over to Dorian, who had lost his bland smile quite some time ago. “Whatever did you order to put them in such a fuss?”

“A macchiato—” So at least Cullen had managed to get that part right. “—without foam.”

The other woman pursed her lips. “Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

“Thank you! I had begun to think—”

“No.” It wasn’t delivered with a snap, yet there was certainly enough chill layered around the sharp edges of that single word to draw the customer up short. “I wasn’t speaking to you.” She matched the mystified expression Cullen had to be sporting with a small smile as she reached out to pat his hand. “People never do endeavor to be easy when it comes to requesting a service, do they?” She turned towards the woman currently gaping at her side, arching a single brow in a way Cullen was certain he would never be able to master. “A macchiato  _ has _ to be served with foam, my dear; it’s what makes your drink what it is. Perhaps next time you should ask for a latte and refrain from harassing those with present disabilities.”

“With…” Cullen should have taken more satisfaction in how appalled the woman was to only just notice his hearing aids, but, as it was, he blushed almost as strongly as she did before darting out of the shop.

Dorian was the first to break the silence that descended thickly across the whole area with a simple, “Well done, Vivienne.” 

“Well, someone has to make an effort,” the woman—Vivienne—said. “It wouldn’t do for those sort to simply go around thinking they have a right to walk over those too polite to say otherwise.” Her fingers began to shift into an elegant arc, making Cullen’s eyebrows shoot almost up into his hairline when he realized what she was doing.

“Um...no, I don’t know…” His brow furrowed as he focused on putting together exactly what she was asking, tuning out Dorian’s own line of questioning over what was happening. “ _ Oh _ ! No, I don’t know what your regular is, sorry.”

“No apologies needed,” Vivienne said. “Simply let Dorian make that chamomile tea he always manages so well and… Ah, are those truly macaroons?”

She swept out with a smile, leaving Cullen with a business card for a ballet studio to be tacked to their board—Sera had stolen the last one apparently—and a chest that felt a good deal lighter than it had at the start of the day.

“So,” Dorian remarked in a far too nonchalant tone after Cullen had opted to help clean up from their afternoon rush, “you know sign language?”

“Ah, a bit.” Cullen scratched at the top of his nose, grimacing as he remembered too late the rag his hand had been on only seconds before. “I’m not as good with it as I should be given that I’m not… Well, I can still  _ mostly _ hear, you know? But it’s something I’d like to get better at...if I can manage it…”

“I would think you could,” Dorian said. “What with needing to teach me as well.” He huffed in response to the wide eyed look Cullen shot him. “I won’t be left out of any secret conversations, let me tell you. And, besides, what better way to gossip then in a way most of our customers can’t recognize.”

“Oi!” Sera scrambled out from the kitchens, causing a horrified Cassandra to have to seize onto the collar of her shirt to keep her from skidding dangerously across the freshly mopped floors. “I want in on the secret lingo too!”

“If I can get you to sit still long enough,” Cullen remarked, laughing when their dishwasher squawked at him.

It meant he missed the fond expression that Dorian sent his way, but given how the man ducked his head when Cassandra lifted her eyebrows at him that was probably just as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one didn't turn out being as long as I would have liked, but I'm also so damn glad it's _publishable_ now. Since it took so long the Halloween scenes will possibly linking into the Thanksgiving ones. Sorry about that!
> 
> Also, I swear to God, the coffee story is a legit one that came from a friend stuck in customer service hell with me. Only we didn't have a Vivienne to come save us.
> 
> Here are the links that served as inspiration for all the seasonal goodies Cullen and Cassandra were working on, though ;D
> 
> http://www.countryliving.com/food-drinks/g1366/halloween-cupcake-ideas
> 
> http://www.countryliving.com/food-drinks/g1194/halloween-treats


	6. Chapter 6

Even without the effort put into themed treats or the decorations stamped up everywhere, there was no way Cullen could forget that Halloween was coming up. Something he apparently had to assure his co-workers of a surprising amount when he arrived that morning without any form of costume.

“I didn’t realize there was a dress code for—”

“For Halloween?” Sera demanded. Soap suds were flicked onto Cullen’s face from her flailing hands, an effect made even more comedic by how it made the glittering golden balls attached via “antennas” to her headband waggle about everywhere. It all made far more sense if you took in the sweatshirt she was wearing—black with bands of yellow across it and little wings attached to the back. “What’d you need? A memo?”

“Sera,” Cassandra stressed, nudging her back towards the sink, even as the girl squawked.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Dorian said, angling his fingers to lock Cullen’s face in a mock photo frame. “You can always go with that Addams Family line. Or Wednesday Addams, really, to be specific.” His brow furrowed as more than one puzzled look was angled his way. “Oh, come on, there’s no way you all can’t know this one!”

“Nope,” Sera said. “Looks like you’re still the biggest nerd here.” She danced out of the way of the dishrag Dorian tossed her way, pulling a face that had their barista turning a rather impressive shade of red.

“No bloodshed in the kitchen.” Leliana chuckled at how all of them startled almost as one. Although, to be fair, it was often near impossible to predict exactly where their bookkeeper might turn up. Sometimes Cullen wondered if that was part of how she had gotten hired. “It’s surprising how often I have to remind you of that rule when I’m the reason it came to be.”

“How would that have…” Cullen shook his head, already raising his hands up as Leliana’s smile began to take a sly curve to it. “On second thought, I definitely  _ don’t _ want to know.”

“More’s the pity,” Leliana said. “It involves why all of us are spared from a certain book club trying to take root here.”

Honestly, by this point, it was less surprising that the people he worked with nodded along to that and more so that he didn’t even question them doing so. 

He could have done with some warning over the cat ears that got plopped on his head, but at least the customers who managed to catch a sight of him seemed more inclined to laugh  _ with _ him than  _ at _ him. He even caught Dorian struggling to hide a smile, no matter how busy things got, more than once, which made him care a good deal less about his own awkwardness.

Besides, it didn’t take long for the show to be stolen by Curtis, of all people, tumbling in with a suit covered in various legal documents, insisting to anyone who stood still long enough that he was a “law suit”.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise, later on, that no one was too exhausted from work to pile into the penthouse apartment for horror movies or, of course, the drinking games that came with. At least he had enough people on his side that no one questioned him skipping out, although he didn’t doubt the “real people” food he brought over to soothe stomachs aggravated by alcohol and candy went a ways with convincing people not to question his avoidance.

As a whole, it all went a damn sight better than Thanksgiving managed to.

*

Dorian had tried to back out of the Thanksgiving festivities all of  _ once _ . He was from Tevinter, after all, where it could hardly be a surprise that the holiday carried very little weight. It had seemed the perfect time to settle in with a bottle of wine and take advantage of not having to get up on any sort of schedule the next day.

He hadn’t spared a thought to the fact that he lived in the same apartment building as the majority of his colleagues until a small group of them showed up on his doorstep. He would have shooed them off had Josephine not threatened, if it could have been called such with a smile that bright, to get Leliana, of all people. As if Bull’s ridiculous flexing in the background hadn’t been enough of a reminder that he could be snatched out of his apartment in his slippers.

It was difficult to regret any of that now, though, even with far too many of them crammed into the space that made up Bull and Curtis’ apartment. There was little one could do to escape the chaos—something the ready supply of alcohol probably didn’t help much with—but Dorian thought all of it was quite a bit like what having an actual family was meant to be like.

Not that he would ever say that out loud. He had a reputation to uphold and all that.

About the only person missing amid all the hubbub was Cullen. Unless a person wanted to count the collection of pies the man had made before heading back to Honnleath to see his family, as if to serve penance for not being able to attend.

No one would dare blame him for it, of course, but Dorian hadn’t missed the flash of surprise on Curtis’ face before he had signed off on the allotted vacation time. For the staff of the bakery—let alone those close to them—families had always been a touchy subject. So those that actually  _ wanted _ to return home for visits seemed a rarer breed than they should.

He was in the middle of watching Felix try to explain away his efforts to smuggle an entire pie with an attempt to play the chronic illness card—difficult to do with the good an excess of proper food had done for him—when his phone went off in his pocket. He might have ignored it if not for the concern that it might be Gereon Alexius, who only ever called after a call to Felix’s phone had gone unanswered.

Not that finding Cullen’s name flashing back at him didn’t make him press the phone to his ear with any less haste.

“Cullen?” He had to turn his back on the roar of noise that erupted when Sera managed to get a smear of whipped cream onto Felix’s face. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown sick of all that familial attention already.”

“No.” There wasn’t anything nice in the waiver to the laugh Cullen huffed out. “But I think they might be sick of me.”

Dorian’s heart caught in his chest for any number of reasons; none of which he wanted to pick apart to understand at the moment. He settled for searching out one of the few quiet places left in the apartment, even if he did feel a bit ridiculous standing in the bathroom. “I’m sure that’s not the case,” he said. “You’re far from a bore, Cullen.”

“Maybe not,” Cullen replied, “but I  _ was _ an addict.”

Dorian sucked in a sharp breath. “That isn’t—”

“They poured me half a glass of wine before remembering,” Cullen said. “Mom had to spend half the meal apologizing for it, which made everyone half afraid to even drink theirs. Except for Rosalie that is. Christ, it’s hard enough to remember she can even have that stuff.”

“She’s the youngest then?” Dorian sputtered at the laughter that came from the other end, for all that it was good to hear something resembling a more solid emotion coming from the other man. “What? You have quite the horde, you know! Keeping them all straight requires a fair bit of effort.”

“I have three siblings, Dorian,” Cullen said. “Not quite the small army you’re picturing.”

“Might as well be,” Dorian said. “My parents had their hands full with myself alone, or at least that was always their excuse. I’m inclined to believe it had more to do with their utter disinterest in one another.”

“Why get married then?” Cullen asked. “Not that I… Damn, feel free to just ignore that.”

“Not at all,” Dorian said. “It’s not like you’re prying, only showing a certain lack of familiarity with other cultures.” He winced at the silence on the other hand. “Now  _ I _ feel the need to apologize.” He tipped his head back against the wall, tracing the cracks in the ceiling with his eyes. “It’s just...what’s done where I’m from. What can come from a marriage—lucrative positions, children to take pride in—is considered far more important than actual feelings.”

“Do you…” He could picture just the way Cullen’s brow was knotting together now, mouth pursing until he could work out how the words should emerge. “Is there a hidden wife then? For you, I mean.”

“Oh, dear God, no!” Dorian exclaimed. “That would be one of the many things I avoided through stealing away down here  _ thankfully _ .”

“Sounds like it was for the best,” Cullen teased. Or at least that was what Dorian would like to take the wry twist in his tone for.

“Of course,” Dorian said. “Wouldn’t have been able to meet you otherwise, now would I?”

“I… That’s not what I… Hey!” Cullen snapped, catching Dorian’s muffled laughter at last. “I’ll hang up on you!”

“No, you won’t,” Dorian said. “I have to tell you all about what a hit your array of desserts were.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Nonsense.” Dorian could still remember the tremor that had been in Cullen’s voice when he answered the phone. Keeping it at bay would go a long way in soothing Dorian’s own rising panic at that memory as well. “You’ll need to stick with me long enough to find out if Felix’s gotten a pie to the face.”

“Now that sounds like a waste,” Cullen said.

If Dorian had been a braver man—or perhaps simply a reckless one—he would have pointed out that Cullen’s family not cutting him slack was the true waste. He wasn’t about to push things closer to the ledge again, though, not when he could hear the warmth creeping back into Cullen’s voice at last.

“Of course it… Sera, put that down!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the shortness of this, but I had been going over this for so long that I wanted to be able to give you guys _something_.
> 
> Also, who's a holiday behind? Me!
> 
> The inspiration for Sera's Halloween costume comes from this lovely artist: http://saa-pandaleon.tumblr.com/post/129533124811/saa-pandaleon-sera-wearing-bee-hoodie-thing


	7. Chapter 7

All things considered, Dorian thought he had adjusted to life southerly about as well as could be expected. It was still appalling to find that even the slightest hints of spice were bound to burn palettes and he doubted that he would ever understand the obsession with dogs, of all creatures. But no matter what he faced—or how he might complain about it—the freedom allowed such an area beyond even his father’s reach more than made up for it.

It was a point that he found himself rather desperately trying to remember when his pleasant session of lounging about in bed was interrupted by his door being pushed open.

“This isn’t happening.” He grumbled into his pillow when the bottom of his bed bounced, resisting the urge to gesture in a way that would show his full displeasure. Even when so distressingly ruffled, he would never risk pushing Cullen towards a proper upset. “It’s our day  _ off _ .”

“I know,” Cullen chirped. “That makes the weather outside even more perfect, honestly.”

“What are you…” Dorian’s eyes flew wide, pushing up in bed fast enough to make his head spin. “No, it can’t be that time already, can it?”

“If you’re talking about snow I…” The rest of what Cullen planned to say was lost in a burst of laughter as Dorian all but whimpered in a dive for his covers. He didn’t so much as blink under the scowl aimed his way when he yanked those blankets back either. “Come on, Dorian, it’s already getting into the afternoon and this is the first proper snow of the season. It should be celebrated.”

He blinked at last when Dorian prodded at his cheek, the scar on his lip going taught when it shifted in a way that was strangely attractive when paired with the softness of his smile.

“You’re so lifelike.” Dorian flopped back against the headboard, arms folded over his chest. “Not that entirely dissuades me of the notion that you were built in a lab somewhere.”

“Oh, come on now,” Cullen tossed back. “What scientist would make anything as faulty as me? They’d be out of a job on the spot.” He leaned forward on the bed before Dorian could put to words how wrong he found such an assumption. “ _ Please _ , Dorian? Just one snowman then we can come in to binge watch on whatever show you want. I’ll even make you hot chocolate from the saucepan instead of the mix.”

Dorian pursed his lips, attempting to at least put in an effort at not being immediately bowed over simply through Cullen looking up at him through his eyelashes like that with just the hint of a smile. “Only if you add in that dark chocolate drizzle to the whipcream,” he said, at last.

He went stiff when Cullen tugged him in against his chest in a sort of one armed hug, although the other man was thankfully too excited to notice. It didn’t last long before Cullen bounded off towards his own room, but it was certainly enough time for Dorian to learn that whatever the man’s natural scent was happened to be unfairly good.

_ Fuck _ .

*

Situated as it was within walking distance of the bakery itself, Skyhold Apartments didn’t exactly have a quiet street. The shops that lined the area were the sort one tended to want to hop across via their own feet than a car, though, so it was rare for the noise to ever reach anything intolerable.

That, at least, was Cullen’s excuse for only just managing to duck out of the snowball leveled his way upon opening the door instead of being able to snag Dorian into safety as well. But he made up for it by making sure that the man didn’t topple over on the slippery steps while trying to charge down to a cackling Sera, spewing out curses in his native tongue the whole way.

“Not gonna apologize for fun!” she cackled. “Just sorry you weren’t the boss man.”

“ _ Kadan _ is too scandalized over the fact that winter does indeed bring snow,” Bull said. “He’s fortified himself under a blanket nest to recuperate from the shock.”

“As is the only sensible thing to do.” Dorian batted the snow loose from his mustache before it could make it droop anymore, glowering at Cullen in a way that shouldn’t be half as cute as it was. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

“Suck it up why don’t you.” Cullen didn’t recognize the flat drawl of the voice or the hard faced woman it belonged to. She stood among a gaggle of others clustered close to Bull, though, jabbing a rather too sharp stone onto their snowman to serve as a nose. “Our Vint isn’t nearly as whiny.”

“Well yours is made of sturdier stock and all that,” Dorian said, flicking a hand in their general direction. “He’s all but made of muscle. It’s entirely unfair to the rest of us.”

“You say that like you never asked me to flex for you,” the man in question piped up, laughing when Dorian’s ears reddened in a way that had very little to do with the cold. He had come into the bakery before, of that Cullen was sure, but he couldn’t quite remember his name outside of that it had something to do with a dessert somehow.

“Should come to the gym if you wanna see all that.” Bull chuckled when Dorian merely sputtered at him before spinning away entirely.

“The gym?” was all Cullen could echo.

“Oh, yeah, your Cass’s new running mate, right?” Bull said.

“Don’t let her catch you calling that,” Cullen snorted, “but, yeah, I am. Looks like the weather will be forcing us to your place pretty soon, though.”

“Not mine, actually,” Bull replied. “Run enough classes there that I might as well, though. Even got to set up some programs for the kids who don’t have as much to do after school.”

“It’s fun.” There was something entirely too sharp in the grin the woman from earlier leveled his way. “There’s no shortage of things to strike at without hearing any complaints.”

“Skinner, no scaring away the newbies,” Bull said. He was seemingly undaunted by the raspberry blown at him by way of response. He took his time to introduce each person with him—the “Chargers” apparently, which Cullen was wary of admitting to being charming—voice as proud as if he were listing off his own children.

Cullen was more than a little startled by how ready all of them were to aid in the making of yet another snowman. Even if it did lead to him simply forming his own fleet of miniature ones while a flurry of hands batted against each other up above.

Dorian was in the middle of scolding an unrepentant Sera for chomping away at the carrot meant to have been used for the nose when someone cleared their throat from off to the left of them.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt—” The man didn’t look all that contrite, but, given how silly the lot of them looked right now, it would have been difficult to call him out on it. “—but is this where Josephine Montilyet lives?”

Sera squinted her reddened face at the man, slamming the half eaten carrot down into the snowman in a way that set Dorian to squawking again. “Who's asking?” she demanded.

Cullen decided to have pity on the poor man, who already looked flustered enough as it was, by pushing to his feet, brushing the snow off his knees on the way. “It is, actually. Are you a friend of hers?” He frowned when the man’s eyes widened at him, sliding back on the snow a touch. “Is something the matter? Did I…”

“No! I mean, you can’t just…” The man’s brow knotted together as he peered over at Cullen. “You don’t remember me at all?”

“Should I?” Cullen asked.

“Ah, that would explain it.” Dorian was nonplussed over having almost every head whirl towards him at once. “You’re Josephine’s beau, aren’t you? I remember her rather delightedly sharing some photos from her phone. Didn’t you work as a recruiter for the military?” He nudged Cullen in the side. “You two could have met in passing, I suppose.”

“Right.” The man cleared his throat, not without a sense of awkwardness, before holding out his hand. “I’m Blackwall. Used to work under the Warden branch, such as it is.”

“Oh!” The firmness of Blackwall’s handshake matched up fairly well to the already stocky build of the man. Cullen was half surprised that he hadn’t pegged the man for military right off, even more so given his rigid posture. “A few of my friends were recruited for the Warden branch. That must be it.”

He had been there to witness the fury of his superiors when Alistair had been snagged right out from under their noses. Discovering that Sigyn had been similarly poached had honestly been the greater shock, although that might have been since Cullen had had such a difficult time imagining such beauty amongst the Wardens standard fare, quickfire brain and all. He wondered if there would ever be a time that he would be able to think of either of them without something bitter knocking hard against his heart.

“Course.” It was nice to see Blackwall’s smile back, to be honest. “Surprised you didn’t go along with them. The Wardens could have used a man like you.”

Heat rushed into Cullen’s face at the unexpected compliment, only to start when Dorian snorted in derision.

“Just as well,” he said, “since I believe he’s  _ happier _ here.”

“That doesn’t negate what he achieved,” Blackwall shot back. “All that he did over there to—”

“All that he shouldn’t  _ have _ to have done, you mean,” Dorian cut in. “Or do the Wardens have another sword for him to fall on?”

Cullen swallowed hard, aware from the uncomfortable prickling on the back of his neck that all eyes had shifted towards him. He cleared his throat to will away the lump that was starting to form. “That… It wasn’t like that.” He didn’t want everything from his past to be drudged up like this all at once. There was little enough he had control over as it was.

“Of course it wasn’t,” Blackwall snapped. “What you did was far more—”

“Alright now, time to end that line of thought.” Cullen snapped up straight when one of Bull’s heavy hands dropped onto his shoulder, but the other man only squeezed there gently. “Josephine is going to start wondering where you are. Don’t want to make her come out in this weather.”

“No, I…I suppose not.” Blackwall inclined his head towards the lot of them, although the corners of his mouth twitched upwards when his gaze landed on Cullen. “I’ll leave you to your building then.”

Sera barely even waited for the door to close before spitting out, “Damn prick! Who does he think he is?”

“It wasn’t…” Cullen shook his head. “Don’t hold it against him. It’s not like I can’t explain.” 

“Doesn’t mean you should have to, though.” Bull’s face was surprisingly soft when Cullen’s snapped his head back to look at him. “All of us have our own burdens to deal with. You’ll tell us when you need to. Just remember to ask for help.”

“Yeah.” Sera grinned up at him from where she was currently tracing bee style buttons onto the snowman with her finger. “Don’t make me come kick down your door there, Curly.”

Cullen could only nod, a little too busy with blinking back the stinging from behind his eyes. He had already dealt with one embarrassment for the day; no need to add breaking down into tears on top of it.

Dorian was uncharastically quiet right up until their return to the apartment, kicking off boots so not make puddles on the hardwood floor (scuffed as it already was) while panting to recover their breath from the treck up all those stairs.

“So,” Dorian said, sliding up close to Cullen while the man got a saucepan onto the stove, “it appears I may have been a bit of an ass.”

“I just…” Cullen chewed on his bottom lip, mixing the milk in with the half-and-half. “Can’t it stay just between us for now?”

“That depends,” Dorian said, “am I ever going to have to kick down your door, Rutherford?”

“I think you do already, Pavus.” Cullen chuckled, knocking his hip against Dorian’s when the other man frowned. “Metaphorically, I meant. Don’t worry, I’m not about to give up on you yet.”

“Not even I recite my physics reading to you while you cook?” 

“Even then, you idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you can make yummy homemade hot chocolate for yourself (sorry, dark chocolate drizzle not included):
> 
> http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/delicious-hot-chocolate/
> 
> I'm sure it's fairly obvious who Sigyn is, but she's also referenced as Curtis' "fancy lady friend" by Sera in the first chapter. You'll see more of her eventually!


	8. Chapter 8

To the surprise of virtually no one that actually lived there, Josephine and Leliana’s apartment was the nicest within Skyhold. Josephine’s need for clear, sunlit spaces merged all too well with Leliana’s own ability to pluck the perfect whimsical items from antique stores. Which, truth be told, was why all of the more serious scheduled after work meetings happened there.

Or, well, as much as any of them could actually  _ be _ serious.

“How is it that these things tend to start again?” Dorian asked. “Something like—queerly beloved we are gathered here…”

“To gay?” Curtis finished, laughter already bubbling into his voice.

“None of you are dressed right for  _ that _ sort of party,” Leliana quipped.

“Not all of us are queer either,” Cassandra said.

“Methinks the lady doth…” Dorian was quick to cover the rest of his words behind the rim of his glass when said “lady” leveled a near instant scowl at him.

“There isn’t any point in starting yet without…” Leliana pursed her lips as she surveyed the room before sighing. “Josie! Cullen! Get out of the kitchen!”

“Sorry, sorry, I only wanted to help with—”

“But, Leliana, I needed to make sure that the wine—”

It probably said more than it should that the two were still protesting away when Leliana herded them out into the living room, carrying out the remaining trays of finger foods for herself. At least Cullen’s frown was quick to fade with Dorian there to ruffle up his curls goodnaturedly.

“So, you know how this goes, and the process is simple enough for our newcomers.” Bull lifted up a somewhat worn yet no less bright Santa hat, shaking it so to set the slips of paper inside rustling. “Time to draw names for some secret gift giving!”

“Oh.” The tips of Cullen’s eyes tinted pink when all the eyes in the room swiveled towards him. “It’s just that… I thought I overheard Curtis mutter something in Yiddish once?”

“You noticed that?” Curtis said, shifting to attention from where he had been half draped over Bull.

“Yeah?” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, offering up a sheepish smile. “There was a girl I knew back...back in the military who spoke it fluently.”

“Huh.” Curtis’ answering smile was somewhat slow in coming but no less true. “Always a surprise, aren’t you?”

Cullen ducked his head, unsure of what to make of the amused glance Bull shot his boyfriend at that, let alone how Dorian’s fingers curled into the velvet of the couch beneath them.

“I don’t celebrate Hanukkah all that traditionally,” Curtis admitted, “and it doesn’t really line up that much with the other holiday events. But, hey, if you all want to give me…” He threw up his hands at the collective groans that came from certain corners of the rooms. “ _ Little _ gifts! That’s all I was going to say!”

“You lot done with all your talks, yet?” Sera snagged the hat from Bull’s grasp before anyone could respond, tossing it into the middle of the room. “Excellent!” She blew a raspberry at Cassandra when the woman leapt up to grab the hat, especially since Leliana’s quiet laughter underscored it all.

Cullen had a hope that he would manage to get a piece of paper with Cassandra’s name on it or maybe even Leliana’s. He deserved to get them something already, truth be told, and it would be easy to construct a gift within the budget requirements. So he wound up swallowing hard once he got the chance to unfold his slip after passing the hat along.

_ Curtis _ . 

What sort of gift was going to be appropriate for his  _ boss _ ?

*

Given the rush that had come with the earlier holidays, Cullen had seen nothing wrong with prepping for it as best he could. So it was a certain measure of bewilderment that he discovered that, outside of people popping in for something warm between shopping along with some daunting holiday creations to be picked up towards the end of the month, things were actually far more pleasantly paced than expected.

At least more so than for the college students that had all but gone about becoming set fixtures.

“By this point we’re all that’s keeping them alive,” Dorian said. “Or, well, that and pure spite.”

“Uh-huh.” Cullen raised his eyebrows at the heavy swig Dorian took from the drink that Cullen had fought with the machines to make him. “Looks like that’s something you can relate to quite a bit. Have you even manage to get more than a few—”

“Do not,” Dorian grumbled, “ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers for.”

“Fine.” Cullen tapped his foot against the floor for a few seconds before sighing. “So long as the topic of what our boss might want for the holidays isn’t off the table.”

“No shit!” Sera skidded out from the kitchen fast enough to leave pans banging in her wake. Cullen was sure that he heard at least  _ one _ cluster of college students start hissing. “Was wondering who got him this time round. Just buy him whatever booze falls under the twenty bucks limit. Won’t be fancy, but it’s not like he ever cares about that.”

“No!” Even Sera started back at that, which triggered a nasty bit of kickback in Cullen’s chest. “I mean… It’s just that…”

“Oh, bugger me,” Sera said. “You’re one of those people who’s all  _ weird _ about alcohol, aren’t you? Going to go about judging me next there, huh?”

“Of course not!” Cullen’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth under the weight of Sera’s glare. There was no tidy way of explaining around just how awkward it would be to have to spell out what happened to Wynne, let alone Aveline.

“Enough.” Cassandra was still rubbing flour free from her hands when she stepped out of the kitchens. “If I remember right, Cullen’s issue with giving out gifts is that he always wants his to be personalized somehow. Something quite hard when you barely know the other.”

Somehow that revelation only made Cullen want to bury his face in his hands even more, despite how quick it took for Sera’s face to clear afterwards.

“Always gotta be adorable over there.” She let loose a peal of laughter at how Cullen started at being swatted on the chest. “Why not get him something he can actually use then?”

“I…” Cassandra managed a somewhat rapid series of blinks before the corners of her mouth curved upwards just a touch. “That is surprisingly astute, Sera.”

“Have my moments,” Sera winked. It didn’t stop her from trying to whip her towel at Cassandra’s ass on the way out, though.

Cullen pursed his lips, lending only half an ear to Dorian’s laughter at the muffled curses from the back when Cassandra managed to snag Sera by the collar before Josephine rushed out to force a truce. The man was still clutching at his sides when he turned towards Cullen after being tapped on the shoulder.

“Dorian… Do you know what colors go best with red hair?”

*

When Dorian stumbled out of his bedroom a week or so later (what did time even mean anymore?) after submitting his final assignment of the semester, he was entirely unprepared to be confronted with what appeared to be some bizarre bonding experiment.

“Isn’t there a rule about letting Leliana near too pointy objects?” he asked. “Please tell me there is.”

Josephine pressed a finger to her lips, shaking her head. “Careful, or you’ll make him lose count!” she exclaimed.

“Of what?” Dorian tossed back on his way to the kitchen. “How many times he’s had the urge to flee?”

Cullen didn’t lift his head up, gaze torn between the yarn braced between his needles and the video pulled up on the laptop balanced on his lap, but his tone was even. “Dorian, if you can manage to keep your peace for the next few rows then I’ll make you whatever you want for a victory meal.”

Perhaps Dorian should be a little ashamed at how easily that worked, but, really, he dared anyone to be able to keep their nose up in the face of Cullen’s cooking. Although he might have wanted to be a little more wary of what it would eventually do to his waistline given how easy it was to coax the other man into adding chocolate chips to the pancakes that were whipped up later.

“Let me get this right,” Dorian said, brandishing his fork in the air. “You’re actually  _ making _ your gift.”

Cullen reached up to rub at the back of his neck, a somewhat sheepish edge to his smile. “The yarn was within the budget?” he replied. “Actually had the knitting needles stowed away somewhere already.”

“You are setting as all up to a dangerous standard here, Rutherford,” Dorian said. “What right do you have going about being as sweet as what you make, huh?”

“I...um…” Cullen shifted from foot to foot, face already flushing into a tone that he wore entirely too well. “I just want to be…”

“It’s the curls,” Leliana chimed in.

“Oh!” Josephine exclaimed. “Or his eyes? Really, it’s just a full—”

“Nope!” Cullen said, pitching his hands up in the air. “I’m returning to cooking until you lot stop being ridiculous.”

“Says the stupidly noble man,” Dorian said, only to squawk when Cullen flicked a bit of batter at him.

Not for the first time he found himself pitying whoever had managed to get such a man for their own little exchange. It really would have been much simpler if he had managed to snag Cullen’s name, but that was neither here nor there by this point.

*

When Cullen arrived at work come the midpoint of the month—brown paper wrapped package under his arm and all—it was to find the kitchens unexpectedly occupied.

“Um...did I miss a notice about—”

“Don’t look at me.” Cullen’s confusion only mounted, along with his eyebrows, when he spotted Curtis pressed up against the wall, hands raised in the air. “I’m not even allowed to  _ touch _ anything.”

“That’s what you get for almost burning yourself with…” The woman who had rounded about from the stove, brandishing a spatula, stuttered in motion once she caught sight of who had joined them. “ _ Cullen _ ?”

Despite how fuzzy his trauma liked to make all but any memories, especially those of the past, Cullen didn’t think he would ever manage to forget the face before him. “Sigyn? What’s going…” He didn’t get much further than that at all before his arms were full of the woman in question.

“Well now.” Curtis pushed off from the wall, shaking his head. “I feel like I missed a step somewhere in there.”

“I know the feeling,” Cullen said.

“Oh! That was probably…” Sigyn darted back, hands flying up to right the mess of hair piled atop her head. The face she pulled at discovering that almost all of it had already come undone regardless was an echo of an expression from within the field—too many days spent over the same puzzle—that it made Cullen’s chest ache in the wake of it. “But we heard about what happened to the Templars and… It’s just damn good to see you’re alright.”

“Something like that at least.” Cullen didn’t like the way Sigyn’s brow furrowed at that, shifting the track of things before she could try to push for more details. “You said ‘ _ we _ ’?”

“I… Well, yeah.” Sigyn knocked him on the arm, chuckling when he rubbed the spot. “You didn’t expect Alistair not to worry about you too, right? He turns it into a sport all on his own.”

“Thought you liked that,” Curtis piped up. “All part of the perfect husband package, right?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Cullen said. “Last I checked, Alistair was still working up the nerve to ask to  _ hold your hand _ , let alone propose marriage.”

“We have so much to dish about, you have no idea.” Sigyn seized him by the hand, dragging him over towards the stoves where a pot of oil was waiting. “You can help me put the dough in to be fried.”

“Hey, how come he gets to—”

Curtis was silenced the instant Sigyn waggled the spatula under his nose. “I’m not returning you to Bull with burns,” she said. “You can help us when it’s time to pipe in the jam.”

Cullen forgot about the package altogether as the rest of the day began to unfold bit by bit. 

Everyone else seemed to take Sigyn’s appearance in the kitchen in stride, although Cassandra did offer an apology for not giving him a fair warning. Sera skipped out on dishes for a bit even to help fill up the doughnuts, despite the fact that more of the jam wound up on her fingers to be licked up than actually inside.

It wasn’t until Sigyn was gathering up her own share of the sufganiyot, along with a bag of chocolate gelt coins—for her  _ children _ apparently—that the package was remembered.

“Don’t forget to give your gift over, Cullen.” Sigyn had to press up onto the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, grinning when he could only blink at her in response. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“Wait? Gift? What gift?” Sera frowned when Cullen lifted it out of the way of her sticky fingers. “It’s gonna get messy no matter what, you know. Forget we work in a kitchen?”

“No, that’s not…” Cullen sighed. “No one wants to get a dirty gift.”

“Not so sure about that,” Sera giggled. “‘Specially when it’s for our boss man.”

“For…” Curtis had been in the middle of fighting to get his coat on, so freezing as he did made him look like a somewhat ridiculously startled bird. He started when Cullen tried to help him right the fabric, though, hurrying to set it all to rights. “Aw, come on, you know you don’t have to try buttering me up, right?”

“You’re the one that decided to put your name in for Secret Santa.” Cullen cocked his head to the side when Curtis took the bundle with careful fingers, only to wind up laughing when he shook it. “It’s not alcohol of any sort, sorry to disappoint.”

“No, no, you couldn’t…” Curtis cleared his throat, redirecting his focus to tearing at the ribbon to get at the wrapping paper rather than on Cullen’s startled expression. The whole lot of it fell to the floor, however, when he tugged the mass of yarn free. “You… You made me a scarf?”

“It’s not a very good one, I know, but—”

“Nope, nope.” Curtis was already hurrying to unwind it all, apparently unbothered by the slightly frayed ends or the hint of a dropped stitch, wrapping the whole length of it around his neck the instant he had the chance. The teal color contrasted perfectly against his complexion, just as Dorian had assured him it would. “This must have taken you  _ ages _ . Why would you even bother with all that?”

“Maybe because I like you?” Cullen’s laughter died in his throat when Curtis’ eyes rounded out. “I mean… I thought that was obvious, not that I would expect…”

“Cullen.” Curtis’ fingers curled around Cullen’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Breathe for me.” There was relief there in his eyes when the man followed his order without question, but something a tad darker unfurled even so. “There you go. Making me happy isn’t a bad thing.”

“I…” Cullen could feel a smile tugging on his lips despite himself. “Didn’t expect to be able to manage that actually.” 

Curtis managed to long blinks before reaching up to ruffle his hair until Cullen broke into laughter again, swatting his hand away. “You are such a ridiculous man,” he said. “It’s part of why I feel so fortunate to have snatched you up for our side, really.” 

Cullen spent the rest of the day with an unexpected lightness to his chest, reaching up to right his curls a bit more often than was necessary. 

Perhaps it was just as well that he missed the frequent looks his coworkers exchanged, even though it did leave him more confused than ever as to why Dorian was so out of sorts the whole day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe for yummy jelly doughnuts:  
> https://www.chowhound.com/recipes/sufganiyot-israeli-jelly-doughnuts-10818
> 
> (To be fair, I am not Jewish and have only researched the heck out of everything I can. If at any point I get things wrong _please_ tell me.)


	9. Chapter 9

Truth be told, outside of the promise of having days off, Dorian had all but forgotten about the approaching holidays. Or perhaps it was more what that upcoming time would mean for Cullen that he had failed to remember, given how he stopped short in the middle of trudging groceries to the kitchen when the man began tugging bags of a different sort out of his room.

“Dear Lord,” he said, “is it that time already?”

“Comes around the same point each year.” Cullen’s initial smile began to slip. “I  _ did _ go over plans with you, right? I could have sworn it was that morning when you tried to make omelettes. Or… Or was it on movie night? I really didn’t mean to—”

“Of course you did,” Dorian cut in, hurriedly. “I only forgot is all.” And, if only for the sake of his pride, “I did more than  _ try _ with those omelettes anyway and you know it.”

“Course you did,” Cullen said. “It actually held together and everything.” He laughed, reaching up to catch the bag of chips Dorian lobed at his head; the sound being far too much of a relief. He shifted from one foot to the other before heading into the kitchen to assist in putting everything away. “I realize I didn’t actually ask—are you going to head home too?”

“For what?” Dorian said. “I have very little intention of dropping a fortune on something that would be a torture.”

“Is it really that bad?” Cullen asked.

Dorian huffed out a sound too bitter to be the laughter he was trying for. “Worse,” he said. “You’re the oddity here, remember?” He expected that to be that, even though the silence that settled around them after was far more uncomfortable than he would have liked. So he came close to dropping the jar of jam in his hands when Cullen spoke up again.

“Well, if that’s the case...would you like to come home with me?”

“You can’t be serious.” Dorian took in the earnest if awkward expression Cullen’s far too open face. “You  _ are _ ?” He struggled to clear his throat, not liking whatever sensation had caused it to become so gummed up. “I… I’m not exactly the type people want to take back to their families, you know.”

“Why not?” Cullen’s smile was wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Never thought there’d come a day when you wouldn’t take the chance to talk yourself up.”

“Shocking, I know,” Dorian said. “But, Cullen, this is your… I wouldn’t want to make a mess of something that obviously means so much to you.”

Cullen blinked before his face cleared into something too soft for Dorian to keep staring at. “Hey now.” A hand settled on Dorian’s shoulder, warmth radiating through the palm as Cullen squeezed gently. “You’re a good man, Dorian—one I’m proud to know. You couldn’t be the ruin of anything.”

“The things you say,” Dorian muttered. “Besides, you would be surprised at what I can accomplish.”

“Always am,” Cullen acknowledged. “Or, well, that, and perhaps what you manage to put up with.” He pulled back when Dorian started to swat at him, chuckling. “I was only trying to be nice!”

“Impossible, more like,” Dorian grumbled. “And I… Well, I can’t actually come with you.”

“Oh.” Cullen’s expression faltered so quick before being covered up that Dorian half wondered if he had imagined it. “I thought you were done with school.”

“Huh?” Dorian shook his head, waving a hand about. “No, no, it’s not that. Only I have plans to meetup with Felix for the New Year. Well, and his father. Someone needs to be a buffer between those two, much as they love each other.” He paused for a moment, considering, before, “You could always come with me, you know. If you don’t already have arrangements with your family, of course.”

Cullen’s eyebrows were at risk of disappearing up into his curls. “You’d want me to?” he asked.

“Now who isn’t thinking well enough of themselves?” Dorian said. “Of  _ course _ , I would. Felix has already been pressing to meet you. His father has always liked the chance to show off in front of new people anyway.” 

“If you really think it’s alright,” Cullen said. “I can bring your present then too, if it wouldn’t be too strange.”

“My…” Dorian felt remarkably like his brain was trying to achieve its own form of short circuiting. “You got me something?”

“Um…” Cullen reached up to rub at the back of his neck, the gesture now much too easy to read. “Well, not  _ officially _ yet, but I will have it soon. Don’t worry, it’s not like I expected to get anything more from everyone then those cookies Josephine gave me for Secret Santa.” He moved over to open the fridge before Dorian could do more than stare wide eyed at him. “Do you think they’ll go with dinner if I make that lemon chicken?”

“They’re just eggs with sugar.” Dorian could remember how Josephine had bemoaned the simplicity of Ferelden tastes with him even while delighting in how happily surprised Cullen had been with the gift. “I think they’ll go with just about anything.”

“Suppose we’ll see anyway,” Cullen said. “Now fill me in how  _ not _ to make a mess of myself in front of your best friend and his father.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Dorian insisted, looping around the other man to start putting the kettle on.

He did, though, apparently if he was meant to find a gift for Cullen in such a short amount of time. Or at least one that meant all that he wanted—or was willing—to show.

*

It was funny, really, how Honnleath always managed to seem so small whenever Cullen returned. He had never been bothered by it in his youth, too proud of his small town roots. Now, though, it was difficult to walk through town without feeling like there were eyes on his back, knowing everyone had at least some version of the truth.

He had never imagined that anonymity would be something that he would miss.

Having such a large family did work to his advantage more often than not, though. The lot of them would often entertain themselves enough for him to slip away unnoticed to find a way to catch his breath.

He could at least busy himself with keeping his small gaggle of nieces and nephews entertained, especially when it was time to sneak out presents or give their parents a chance to rest. Even so, it still rankled to see how his mother would tense whenever he swung one of the younger ones up into his arms, as though expecting him to drop one of them or somehow something worse.

Even at his lowest points he would never have dared such a thing. He had wanted to hurt himself far more than he ever did anyone else back then. Perhaps that was part of why he had stayed with Samson for so long.

As if the universe were responding to the melancholic turn his thoughts had taken, something came along to bop him on the head. He was still blinking, rubbing at the offending spot when Rosalie dropped down next to him on the couch, dropping a present down onto his lap. She sighed when Cullen turned towards her, brow knotted together in confusion.

“I know we did presents earlier,” she said, “but I thought you might not want to open this one in front of everyone else?”

“You didn’t have to get me anything at all,” Cullen said. “You’re almost done with your senior year. That’s more important than—”

“Cullen,” Rosalie cut across, “open it before I go for the shins.”

“Not the gut?” Branson piped up from where he was trying to wrangle his daughter into her pajamas. “For shame, Rose, I thought we had trained you better.”

Cullen chuckled when Rosalie stuck her tongue out at their brother, sliding his finger under the wrapping paper. Whatever was underneath felt like a book, which was a good, safe present. He had already gotten more practical, somewhat uncertain gifts from everyone else, so, if anything, his little sister was being inventive.

Or at least that’s what he thought until he wound up staring down at a planner.

“It’s…” Rosalie scooped it up from his lap when he kept silent, thumbing through all the brightly edged pages with a hushed voice. “Look, I know it isn’t something you like talking about, but it can be hard for you to keep track of things sometimes.” Her fingers pressed underneath Cullen’s chin when he tried to drop his head, keeping him steady. “Hey, that’s not a fault. I have to use one of these all the times for school, you know. And, besides, it even comes with stickers  _ and _ sticky notes, so it can’t be all bad.”

The laughter that escaped from Cullen’s throat was somewhat choked. “No,” he said, “it really can’t.”

“Good,” Rosalie said, “because now it’s your brotherly duty to hug me so we can all feel less awkward.”

“Didn’t think you’d want me doing that anymore,” Cullen muttered. His eyes widened when Rosalie gasped. “I didn’t mean to say that out…” 

It was as far as he managed to get before Rosalie flung herself at him, winding up halfway in his lap. “You are an  _ idiot _ ,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Well,” Cullen said, patting her back as their parents already rushed over to fret, “no one will argue with you there.”

*

All things considered, Felix was deriving far too much joy from his current state. It became even less far when all he did in the wake of Dorian’s glower was to start chuckling. “I’m not going to apologize for finding this all adorable.” He ducked out of the way of the pillow lobbed at his head, almost dropping his glass of wine in the process. “I haven’t seen you try so hard to become sober since back when we were kids.”

“Well I can’t very well call him drunk,” Dorian snapped. “It would be...rude. To say the least.” Not that Cullen had ever called him—or any of those they knew, for that matter—out for drinking, but it remained an unspoken rule for Dorian to do it outside of the apartment or, like now, when Cullen would be away.

“Afraid you might blurt something unexpected out?” Felix asked.

Dorian arched a brow at him. “Seems like you’re more at risk for that. Should I take  _ your _ phone away so you don’t wind up calling that… What was it?”

“Carver.” Felix was coming dangerously close to pouting. “And I  _ won’t _ be calling him. Not when I only just got his number.”

“Not even to tell him how lovely you find his muscles?” Dorian didn’t quite manage to dodge the hand that reached out to swat his leg, but he made off towards his bedroom all the same. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“But that leaves the door wide open!”

Dorian shook his head, not even having to look at his phone to punch in the number he needed. He wasn’t all that prepared, however, for the gravely voice that greeted him once the call was picked up.

“Hello? Dorian?”

“Cullen?” It only took a quick glance at the clock for Dorian to curse under his breath. “Apologies, I didn’t consider that you would be in bed.”

“Doesn’t add to the appeal?” There was the sound of blankets shifting as Cullen no doubt sat up, perhaps rubbing the sleep from his eyes like he always seemed to have to do even for the smallest of naps. “Getting to talk to another man in my childhood bedroom and all that. Scandalous, as you would say.”

Dorian’s tongue was making a valiant effort to stay stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Well now,” he said, “if that doesn’t hint at stories that I want to hear more of…”

“There aren’t many,” Cullen huffed. “I never did manage to become as adventurous as you.”

“Ah, that’s...one word for it.” Dorian shook his head, plopping down onto his own bed. “But we’re getting off point here.”

“Point, you say,” Cullen said. “You mean, there was a point to all this other than to just hear your voice?”

“You are deplorable,” Dorian said, hoping that Cullen couldn’t hear the smile in his voice. “I know how much the holidays mean to you, so I was trying to be a proper friend and wish you… Well. Happy holidays, Cullen Rutherford.”

He wasn’t going to try to put to words how he still didn’t know quite what to do when he remembered the phone call that had come about from the last holiday. Or that the apartment seemed strangely empty without Cullen there to fill the kitchen with sounds geared towards its actual use or pulling up a documentary on their battered television that both of them had been keeping track of.

He could barely make out the soft sound that Cullen made, but he did wind up squirming under the warmth of the words that came next. “Happy holidays yourself, Dorian Pavus. And thank you.”

“Well I don’t have many friends do I?” Dorian said. “Have to take good care of the ones I’ve managed to acquire.”

“Liar,” Cullen replied. “You have loads of us and none of us would ever run out on you.” There was a pause before Cullen murmured, “You do know that, right?”

“I’m learning it somewhat,” Dorian said. “Now stop being adorable and go back to sleep.”

“Fine,” Cullen chuckled. “Try not to get up to too much mischief while I’m away.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dorian pressed his hands over his face as he hung up, wondering just how screwed he might be at this point. “Not at all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, so _wow_ this chapter basically flew out of me in almost a single sitting. Is this what being productive feels like haha?
> 
> Also, I can't lie, Felix and Carver totally have a side story of their own within this verse. There's also one for Anders and m!Hawke, but that's one is left to [withcoffeespoons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/withcoffeespoons/pseuds/withcoffeespoons) :)


	10. Chapter 10

Mia didn’t quite wake up the whole town when Cullen told her he needed to go shopping for a final present, but it was close enough. At the very least, it got their mother tottering downstairs to deliver a lengthy message about swearing, all while one of Branson’s daughters came far too close to sounding out one of the curses (her father was far too proud of how close she got).

The scolding that came down in the market square after he finally admitted who the gift was meant to be for certainly didn’t go over any better either. At least tugging her into the nearest store had caused her tone to lower slightly.

“Look, I brought you along for  _ help _ —”

“No kidding,” Mia cut across. “This one sounds serious from what you’ve told me.”

“I…” Cullen could almost literally feel the moisture sapping out of his mouth when his sister raised her eyebrows at him. “No, no,  _ no _ . It’s nothing to do with anything like that.”

“Cullen.” Mia stopped fiddling with the fabric of a nearby shirt to cup her hand around his elbow. “You know none of us will judge you trying to be happy. Particularly not when this one sounds like such an improvement from—”

“Mia, no, just...stop it.” A small store within his own hometown—too full of damn eyes everywhere—was the last place where he would want to deal with the tightness overtaking his chest. “Having him as a friend is more than enough, alright?”

To say that he wasn’t ready to deal with any of the rest would have been putting it mildly. Not to mention that Dorian could all but certainly do better. The man flirted as easily as breathed; it was comforting to him. There was no reason to read any farther into it unless he actually  _ wanted _ to get hurt again.

Mia pursed her lips, eyes narrowing until she looked remarkably like their mother (not that he’d ever dare tell her). She dropped the issue, at least, though, spinning around the clothes rack in front of them. “Fine, fine,” she said. “I’ll help you find something that will go over as well with your friend as it will his best friend.”

“And the best friend’s father.” Cullen chuckled, some of the tension inside of him easing when Mia let out a low whistle.

“Bloody hell,” she muttered. “No wonder you waited for help to arrive.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Cullen huffed.

“You’re welcome,” Mia replied almost instantly. “Now tell me what this boy of yours looks like so I can keep an eye out for what colors will suit him.” She rolled her eyes, holding up her hands when Cullen’s mouth dropped open. “Yes, yes, I realize he’s not  _ yours _ .”

Cullen was starting to be glad that he hadn’t actually brought Dorian home with him. He had forgotten what the full brunt of the Rutherford experience could be like. And here everyone liked to accuse Fereldens of being reserved. 

He left Mia on her hunt for the perfect accessory before long, all of the fabrics starting to blur together in his mind. He had meant to make a turn for the books pressed against the back wall when a flash of gold in a display case caught his eye.

“Excuse me?” He couldn’t quite keep the laughter that bubbled up when at the store owner’s scandalized expression after he tapped on the class at bay. “Is this from Tevinter?”

“Looks like it,” Mia said, popping up at Cullen’s side as though she had never left. Which was probably for the best given Cullen could only half keep track of the intense haggling she managed to engage in. 

So long as he managed to leave with the item carefully wrapped that was all that really mattered anyway.

*

The house Felix had been taken as his own was situated all but atop the town, right along the fringes of the university campus. It was a touch fancier than what the school typically would have allotted, but that had more to do with Felix padding the gaps in price with his own money than anything else. He had left their country to avoid the favoritism that inevitably came with his name in almost all academic fields, after all.

Gereon was already halfway through his inspection of the place when Dorian arrived. He seemed not at all aware to the pinched expression on his son’s face. He disliked outright discussions over the state of his wellbeing about as much as Cullen did, which, to be fair, was where Dorian considered he had received most of his experience in the matter.

He was barely out of a hug before Gereon was quizzing him on the state of the windows, which had Felix insisting he had to go check on something in the kitchen.

“Doesn’t seem too drafty,” Dorian said, “but then I am being spoiled. Or, well, poor Cullen is, for all that he’s never complained over that leaky sunlight of his.”

“Cullen did you say?” Dorian had to resist the urge to fidget when all of Gereon’s scrutinizing turned on him instead. “Isn’t that the boy you invited along for the evening?”

“Ah, yes,” Dorian replied. He was starting to whether he should have waited for Cullen to arrive at the apartment so they could head up together when there was a knock at the door. At least he managed to get the door open before Gereon did.

“Oh!” It was entirely unfair for Cullen to smile so brightly once his eyes landed on Dorian. “I’m not late am I?”

“Not at all.” Dorian stepped aside to let Cullen in, closing the door behind him to occupy his hands with something other than the raw urge to touch. “Did you… Cullen, did you bring a pie?”

“Well, yes,” Cullen admitted, “but this one has curry crust to pair off the butterscotch.”

Even Felix stuttered to a stop on his way out of the kitchen at that while Gereon only managed a few long blinks before a warm burst of laughter escaped him.

“Now I understand why Dorian speaks so well of you,” Gereon said. “Lord knows the boy never learned how to feed himself properly.”

“That is entirely unfounded and you…” Dorian scowled at Felix when the other man tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his own chuckles.

Gereon shook his head at the resulting scuffle that ensued with dish towels being wielded more as weapons than anything close to their original purpose. He didn’t get far in his apology before Cullen shook his head, however.

“I’ve seen far worse at work, trust me.” He paused, sheepish. “Not that Dorian is always involved.”

“Don’t try telling me he’s always well behaved,” Gereon said, “or I’ll think he paid you off.” He waved off Cullen’s sputters with a smile, guiding the man towards the dining room with a hand at his elbow. “I’ll want to hear all these tales at dinner, regardless. The boys tend to tell me far too little as it is.”

*

The particulars of what to ring in the New Year with had been far more difficult for Dorian than he wanted to admit. Tradition had always called for the strongest vintage of wine from back home in Tevinter that Gereon had managed to smuggle in. And, for all Cullen insisted that such a thing would be fine for him, it still felt strange to be holding anything alcoholic around the man.

He only didn’t realize he was being quite so obvious about it until he caught sight of Cullen’s frown.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s not a problem, Dorian.” That didn’t stop the man in question from almost swallowing his tongue at the edge in Cullen’s voice, though. “That sort of thing never was for me. You know that better than anyone.”

“So I’m simply meant to be content with your discomfort?” Dorian demanded. “How silly of me.”

“No, that’s not…” Cullen dragged a hand across his face. “It’s not you making me uncomfortable. You’d never do that.”

Dorian swallowed hard. “I’m not so sure of that,” he muttered.

“Well I am,” Cullen said. “It… I don’t mean for it to be a problem. Only looking at that...it makes me remember why I can’t have it is all. But you shouldn’t have to worry about any of that. I can handle it, really.”

“Right.” Dorian tried not to let his incredulity slide into his tone. It was a wonder, honestly, that Cullen even remembered to look to himself after such full days of taking care of everyone else. Not that Dorian didn’t mind being needed for just that. “This is starting to sound like the kind of distraction that only gifts can create.”

“Want to get them in before you’re a whole year late, huh?” Cullen asked.

“Something like that,” Dorian said. He fumbled into his messenger bag for the item in question, unable to even feel offended by how Cullen laughed at his clumsy attempt at wrapping. The sound died away not long after the man unwrapped it anyhow; something which Dorian could only hope was a good sign.

“You…” Cullen ran his hands along the intricate swirls that lined the book’s cover. “This seems like a gift more suited for yourself, you know.”

“Oh, really,” Dorian said. “And what recipes do you think I could possibly fill it with?”

“It’s for…” Cullen’s gaze snapped from the book to Dorian then back again as he began to flip through the blank pages. “I have to point out that you’re overestimating my talents.”

“As someone who regularly reaps the rewards of those talents,” Dorian said, “I will most definitely fight you on that.”

“Noted,” Cullen chuckled. He reached out to squeeze Dorian’s hand, not even caring that it made the man go stiff all at once. “Thank you for this, Dorian. Truly.”

“Yes, well…” Dorian coughed in an effort to loosen his throat when Cullen let his hand drop. “I do believe there’s one very specific way you can… Oh, not like that!” 

“Right, of course.” Not that saying that did anything to get rid of the splotches of red that had sprung up on Cullen’s face. “Don’t get upset with the wrapping. The store did it for me, so I can’t claim superiority on that front.”

“Ass,” Dorian muttered, far too fondly for it to be an insult. Not that any of that provided much of a guard against his stomach dropping out once he finally got the present completely unwrapped. “Cullen, I… Where did you get this?”

“Back home if you’d believe it.” And, no, Dorian most certainly did  _ not _ . “Mia—that’s my older sister, not the younger—waged a war with the clerk over prices. Not that was easy since he had to be the most obnoxious Orlesian this far south of the border. Don’t tell Leliana I said that, though, she might just… Dorian?” There was a hand on Dorian’s arm then, Cullen’s eyes anxious from beneath a furrowed brow. “What is it?”

“This is…” Dorian couldn’t keep his voice from shaking, which lead to the grip on his arm tightening. “You bought me the Pavus family birthright?”

“I…” At least Dorian wasn’t the only one looking stunned now. “Wait, that can’t be right.”

“It is if I sold it.” Dorian huffed out a hollow laugh at how shocked Cullen seemed by such a concept. “I didn’t want anything holding myself to any of...any of  _ that _ . I needed a way to pay for my way across, besides. It’s not as though runaways are still allowed the financial benefits of their family name.”

“Damn idiots.” Cullen held up his hands when Dorian shook his head. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” Dorian said. “It’s appreciated, actually. Although I’m not sure what to… I never thought I would see this again.” One more thing separating him from ever being a part of home again.

“Seems like there’s only one thing to do then.” Dorian drew a sharp breath when the amulet was tugged free from his numb fingers for Cullen to loop it around his neck. “If anyone is going to give your family the good name it deserves it’s you, after all.”

“You are an absolute beast,” Dorian scolded, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm. At least Cullen pretended not to notice any of that.

“Of course I am,” he said instead. He reached up to clink his flute of sparkling cider against Dorian’s own. “Now what do you say we go greet the New Year.”

“And what a one it will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know this one is a little shorter than usual, but I was so determined to get it out at last. I waffled over whether to include such a rom-com moment (kudos to you if you caught on earlier!) but it was just too much fun to resist.
> 
> Butterscotch pie with curry crust is also literally a thing. God bless those who love spices.  
> http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/butterscotch-pie-with-curry-crust


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy misunderstandings, Batman. Along with a mention of Halward Pavus' Grade A ParentingTM and Gossip Girl binge sessions.

Valentine’s Day tended to be a mixed bag when it came to the occupants of the bakery. For almost all except the typical pairings, it tended to be just another day, if filled with more saccharine sweetness than usual. About the only thing that stood out about this year was that Josephine had joined the ranks of those eagerly tittering about for the day to be done, telling anyone who would stand still long enough about her plans for the evening.

Or, well, that wasn’t entirely fair. 

Cullen was there too, after all, handing out free heart shaped cookies to children with gap toothed grins and making the teenaged girls that came in clusters burst into titters with his smile. It also meant that Dorian’s typical plans for this day were more than a bit derailed.

Which would have been fine, really. He might not be able to go down to Curtis and Bull’s apartment—no chance hell that would be a safe zone by this point—but with Josephine out he could enjoy a few glasses of good wine with Leliana. It might not be enough, not really, but it would take the edge off at the very least.

He just hadn’t counted on his roommate’s damn empathy being quite so keyed in on him.

“Dorian?” Cullen didn’t move his hand away from Dorian’s shoulder, even when he leapt under the contact. “Are you alright? It’s like something’s been eating at you all day.”

“Now there’s a way of putting it,” Dorian said, pushing out a laugh. It took very little to shrug Cullen’s hand off, even if he didn’t feel quite so good about the way the man’s face twisted up as a result. “No reason for concern. Particularly not when you’ve done quite enough already.”

“What does that mean?” Cullen’s hands tightened into fists at his side then loosened at least twice before he could continue. “You didn’t say anything about… Dorian, I don’t  _ understand _ .”

It was that, as much as the open panic in Cullen’s face, that broke down Dorian’s resolve. “I’m being a fool,” he said. “All you did was collect my birthright for me. The cost alone—”

“Wasn’t bad,” Cullen said. “Not when the largest expense I have is therapy appointments.”

“Oh, yes, because I certainly want to cut into  _ that _ . No, no, I don’t…” Dorian groaned, pressing his fingers to his temples. It seemed everything he did only caused Cullen to look even worse off than before. “Where I’m from such displays are always for something. A way of...of ensuring payment down the road.”

“Can that payment be in your smile then?” Cullen asked. “Because I’d really like to see that right now.” His ears rounded out red before he could even start to duck his head. “Not that… Christ, I should have thought that through better. But then I’m me and—”

“Precisely,” Dorian cut in. “You’re  _ you _ .”

“And that’s...a problem?” Cullen replied.

“It is when it makes you so confusing!” Dorian snapped. “I don’t know what to expect from you half the time, which means makes it even harder to predict what you might… Well.” He broke off with a sigh, shaking his head. “Today just isn’t a very good day for me, I’m afraid.”

“Right then.” Dorian huffed a token sound of objection when Cullen caught his hand, but didn’t do much to stop the other man from tugging him over to the couch, let alone tugging him down to sit. “You’ve always been entirely too good about listening to all my bullshit. Now’s the time for you to cash in, I think.”

“Your problems aren’t bullshit,” Dorian protested, only to roll his eyes when Cullen arched a brow at him. “Fine, fine. I suppose if I’m to open up to anyone it  _ should _ be you. The others already know, regardless.”

It made easier, honestly, for them to have served as witnesses instead of leaving him to tear each bit out repeatedly. Even with Cullen it was hard to find a place to start after so long of avoiding tossing his own burdens onto the man’s shoulders. Not to mention that considering the different ways in which Cullen might react was hardly pleasant.

Cullen never pushed, however, expression as open as it had been at the start by the time Dorian began at last.

“I didn’t come down south on my own. There was a boy—or well, no, a man, by that point—who came with me. It was getting caught with him, along with my defiance of letting it all be swept under the rug, that had my father dragging out pamphlets for a certain brand of therapy.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly at Cullen’s sharp intake of breath, grateful that he didn’t need to explain any further on that front. “When I made to flee he insisted on coming with me, despite all the protests I tried to stage against it.”

“What was his name?” Cullen asked, voice soft.

Dorian drew in a shaky breath. “Rilienus.” It was foolish, of course, for saying it to sound like letting go of a secret, but Cullen’s easy, small smile lessened it at least. “Our families cut us off all but immediately, of course. It was meant to drive us back, as if the prospect of being without someone to rub our feet would drive us to true horror.”

“You had someone to do that?” Cullen held up his hands at the incredulous look Dorian shot his way, although he still appeared far more amused than contrite. “Right, sorry, please carry on.”

“Oh, yes, by your leave.” It was something of a marvel, really, that Cullen could make him smile even now, however slightly. “The college snatched Rilienus up without question; he was far too good a researcher for them not to. And, well, I had the bakery even then.” He snuck a glance at Cullen, trying for a laugh that turned into little more than a puff of air. “You’re wondering why he isn’t here now, no doubt.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to have left.” Cullen fiddled with the edge of the couch arm, brow furrowed. “You… It sounds like you were happy together.”

“We were.” Each word seemed to stick in Dorian’s throat now, coming out rougher than the other as he went on. “Until a driver decided to skip the intersection when he was walking home to me.”

Cullen lurched forward as though he had been struck in the gut, eyes wide. “Dorian, I—”

“I didn’t even find out until the hospital.” Dorian curled his hands into his jeans in an effort to stop them from shaking. “I was the emergency contact, for all the good it did either of us. There was just too much for either of our insurances to handle, let alone are paychecks. I had to call his family. I  _ had _ to. But then I couldn’t go in—they made sure of that. I wasn’t there when… He must have been so scared and I wasn’t…”

Cullen’s arms were around him then, silencing his babbling in a moment. He wanted to feel worse about being guided down to Cullen’s chest as the man laid back, hand rubbing circles over Dorian’s back, but it just felt too good, too grounding.

There were no comments made about the damp spot on Cullen’s shoulder, even when, after what felt like hours, the other man slid free from his grasp to bring over soup in mismatched mugs.

It was the first time that Dorian had spent the day with fashion shows buzzing low in the background, but, so long as Cullen didn’t move his hand from where it combed idly through his hair, then he thought he could make it through just fine.

*

Cullen didn’t set out to avoid Dorian in the week that followed. He only wanted to give the man space after being made to unleash something so clearly full of pain. He didn’t think he had ever seen Dorian appear so fragile and, if he could help it, wanted to ensure that was never a reason for him to again.

It didn’t help that certain lines had seemed to start getting blurred somehow.

There was no denying that Dorian was attractive. No forgetting it either, given how often the man himself liked to remind everyone. But Cullen was fully capable of appreciating all of that without giving a thought to how to angle for more. Even more so now that Dorian had grown closer to him than anyone else among those he had come to know.

Having the man’s friendship was no small feat and, truly, he could be content with that alone.

In his sessions with Wynne, she had stressed how good it was that he felt comfortable enough to be physical with people again. He hadn’t thought of how else it might be interpreted until Sera had demanded to know whether he had had a row with Dorian.

“You aren’t all touchy like usual,” she had replied when faced with Cullen’s baffled expression. “Haven’t even caught one of those silly smilies you two do all day!” 

Even Cassandra had ducked her head at that while Josephine had quickly busied herself with something on her clipboard. Only Leliana had met his gaze, looking fairly amused from under an arched brow.

If those that saw them all but every day already thought they had caught onto something, then Cullen was more than a little terrified what Dorian had to think.

The man had already been through more than enough without stressing over whether his roommate was trying to put the moves on him. So, really, a bit of space would no doubt help more than harm.

All the same, he was more than a bit caught off guard by the offer Bull dropped at the end of the week.

“You want me to…” Cullen shook his head, scrubbing a bit harder than necessary at a spot on the counter. He huffed when Bull braced his elbows on the spot that had already been cleaned, which only drew a chuckle from the larger man. “You’re inviting me to dinner?”

“Takeout, really,” Bull said. “Can’t ate so healthy all the time, Rutherford. Gotta find a way to live a little.”

“Right,” Cullen said, smiling despite himself. “And a television binge?”

“Sounds about right,” Bull said. “Dorian is out doing the party scene again, isn’t he? Doesn’t mean you should miss out on doing something a little fun.”

“I don’t need a...a…a minder.” Cullen snuck his teeth into the inside of his mouth when Bull’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“No need to explain.” There wasn’t a hint of offense in Bull’s expression, although he offered a smile under the scrutiny Cullen subjected him to. “Just thought you deserved the chance to get out a little.”

“Even if it’s get a floor down from my own space?” Cullen asked.

“Hey, baby steps, right?” Bull said. “Now, come on, I need someone on my side during Curtis’ junk spree.”

“How bad can it be?” Cullen said.

Really, by this point he should have known better than to use a line like that.

*

“I don’t…” Cullen cocked his head to the side, slice of pizza all but forgotten. “I can’t even remember who’s friends and who isn’t anymore.”

“Just focus on who’s working together to backstab who,” Bull replied. “That’s really what we’re here for anyway.”

“Right, so sorry,” Cullen said. “Thought it was meant to be the plot. Well, that and all the dazzling outfits.” It was just as well that Curtis shushed him not long after since he had been on the verge of pointing out how much Dorian would have liked to have watched this with them. For all that Dorian was his best friend, the quota to talk about him had to have been reached when Bull’s eyebrows began to lift, even if it was with a smile.

He flicked an M&M at the television by the end of the episode, an act which he really would have apologized for if it weren’t for how Curtis doubled over with laughter over it.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s just… I didn’t expect to hate Georgina so much.”

“Well, she’s a recurring character,” Curtis said, “so try not to get too upset. For the sake of our electronics, if nothing else.” He didn’t move his hand from Cullen’s shoulder for one long beat, though, before squeezing down as he pushed up to refill his glass, snatching up the M&M on the way.

“Don’t eat that,  _ kadan _ ,” Bull said, chuckling when all he got by way of response was a stuck out tongue.

Bit by bit, it grew harder to track just how long Cullen had been down in the apartment. He knew he had to be overstaying his welcome, telling himself that it would only take one more episode for him to take his leave. But then Curtis would crow over a hook that would emerge only at the end, hand pressed to his knee. Or Bull would be there with that ever easy smile, pausing to tuck the blanket more in around Cullen as he passed or to ruffle his curls into a state of disarray.

He didn’t even realize that anything had changed until he blinked blurry eyes open, vaguely aware of a weight sprawled out across him. It wasn’t until he caught sight of a puff of red hair below his chin that he realized what had happened.

“Morning sleepy head.” Bull lifted a mug of coffee in greeting when Cullen’s head darted up to find him in the kitchen. He pressed a hand to Curtis’ side instinctually when the man stirred beneath the blanket draped over them, fingers curling and uncurling against Cullen’s shirt. “Hope you don’t mind me leaving the two of you there. It was too cute a picture to disturb either of you and, really, you’ve earned a good night’s rest by the sounds of it.”

“R—Right,” Cullen muttered. He wasn’t sure which was more distressing—how far from normal this all was or how very much it didn’t feel that way at  _ all _ . Particularly not when the sounds of Bull shifting pans about in the kitchen brought Curtis to consciousness at last, leading him to prop his chin up on Cullen’s sternum with a sleepy smile.

“Hey there.” He yawned, stretching in a manner far more akin to a cat than anything else. “Sleep well?”

“Uh, yes, I suppose so.” Cullen swallowed hard at how Curtis’ eyes sparked to life at that, grateful that there was nothing too embarrassing to discover when the man pushed up off him. He froze in the middle of pushing up from the couch when Curtis pulled his shirt off over his head. He wanted to avert his eyes, but something caught his eye before he could, forcing him to inhale sharply.

It had nothing to do with the marks left from the binder. That had been such an expectation that the sight of it was almost a familiar comfort. No, it had much more to do with impressions shooting across the arch of Curtis’ back.

“I… I should go.” He was proud of how steady he was able to keep his voice given how it was enough of a struggle to let his feet find proper ground.

“Are you sure?” Curtis asked, casting a glance back over his shoulder. How he remained capable of being so openly serene was anyone’s guess. “Bull makes a mean breakfast.”

“I’m sure, but…” Cullen shook his head. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome. So, maybe another time?”

“Gonna hold you to that,” Bull said, pointing towards with the spatula. That smile curled Cullen’s stomach far more than it eased him now, making his nod jerky before he darted out of the apartment altogether. 

He didn’t get far, bracing his back against the wall before he slumped down to the floor, slamming his hands to his face.

No matter what the image of those streaks of purple bruises on Curtis’ back remained seared into his mind, along with the horrifying understanding of just what those marks had to mean.


	12. Chapter 12

The past week or so had been odd to say the least.

It wasn’t as though Dorian expected constant stimulation. More often than not, all of his sociable energy had been exhausted by the small talk made necessary through work. Even then, though, Cullen had still been there, making idle chatter about the day as he cooked while Dorian sat nearby with his textbooks or flipping the television towards something that could serve as a bit of white noise for them both.

As of late, however, it had gotten difficult to keep Cullen in the same space at all once dinner was over. He didn’t even get that small, unconscious knot on his brow when Dorian began to hint at going out for the night, offering up a near polite smile instead of the half hearted excuses that had always been able to convince Dorian to stay.

So, really, Dorian thought the way he started when Cullen came through the door that morning was entirely justified. He could have done without his tea slopping out over his knuckles, though. “What are you…” He darted a quick glance down the hall, past the television, where Cullen was  _ meant _ to be. “I thought you were in your room!”

“Oh.” Cullen blinked before rubbing at his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Right, sorry about that.” He frowned when Dorian set his tea down to cross his arms over his chest. “What?”

“So where were you?” Dorian asked. “This is the kind of behavior that I know to expect from myself, not you.” Not to mention that he was very sure that those clothes were the same that Cullen had worn to work the day before.

Cullen rolled his shoulders up into a shrug as he toed off his shoes. “Okay then,  _ Mom _ .” He sighed when his tone only served to make Dorian’s lips press together. “I didn’t go that far—just downstairs to Curtis and Bull’s. I didn’t mean to wind up staying the night, but...things happened.”

“Oh.” Dorian swallowed hard against the pit growing in his stomach, eyes flicking over Cullen as discreetly as he could manage. He couldn’t see any obvious marks, but that could simply mean that Cullen has asked for discretion. The rumpled state of the man’s clothes certainly didn’t help either. “Did you have a good time then?”

“I… Well, yes, but I just…” Cullen spun on his heel from where he had been fiddling with the knobs for the stovetop. “Has Bull ever seemed too rough with Curtis? That you can remember, I mean.”

Dorian did his best not to appear thrown by such a quick change, but almost fresh out of bed it was difficult to pull off. “I suppose?” he replied. “But I’m sure it was never anything that Curtis didn’t ask for.” His brow furrowed when Cullen inhaled sharply, face blanching of color all at once. “Cullen, what—”

“This was a mistake.” Cullen was already rushing for where he had left his shoes by the doorway, not bothering to undo the laces to get them back on. “I should… I’ll go get breakfast.”

“But I already made some!” Dorian exclaimed, even the only response he got was the door slamming shut.

He didn’t actually throw his mug at the wall, but, to be honest, it was a damn close thing.

*

The start of a new week of work was supposed to have been a relief. After such a period of restlessness, Cullen would have taken any form of distraction he could get.

Except, as it would seem, even work wasn’t allowed to be a refuge anymore.

For all that Dorian had been steadfastly ignoring him, it apparently hadn’t stopped him from speaking to just about everyone else. There wasn’t any other reason for people to be walking on eggshells around him, shooting the barista glances if he so much as raised his voice. Which, to be fair, had happened more than he would have liked given how often Leliana or Cassandra tried to find a thinly veiled excuse to check in on him.

To make matters worse, Curtis had made it a point to stop in far more than he ever did. On its own, that was fine; particularly when it might have afforded him the chance to discuss things with the other man. Except with Curtis almost always came Bull, who seemed determined to single him out.

He knew that his reasons for ducking away were becoming increasingly flimsy, but he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. Not when the sight of Bull’s wide smile with everyone clamoring so happily around him was enough to twist his stomach.

So, when he got to the top of the stairs only to find Curtis waiting for him outside the door to the apartment, it was only through sheer force of will that he didn’t try to make a run for it.

“Alright, that’s it.” Dorian’s voice was sharp enough to make Cullen start, a fresh stab of panic hitting him when his roommate pushed around him to get at the door. “I’ll leave you two to...whatever it is you do.”

Cullen got a half step forward, unable to help reaching out to snag at Dorian, before a hand collided hard with his chest, sending him stumbling back. He struggled to keep his breath even as he took in the unyielding expression on Curtis’ face.

“You are a hard man to pin down, Cullen.” Curtis wound his arms across his chest, an immovable force in front of the door despite his slight frame. “Especially since you had me convinced that you were all about acceptance.”

“I—” 

“Oh no.” Curtis’ quick glare left Cullen stuck in place. “You didn’t seem to have any interest in talking earlier, so I don’t really see any reason why that should change. I mean, Bull’s got this theory that you were put off by all that happened last weekend—that you couldn’t understand what was being offered. But I saw your face when I took my shirt off.” There was a flicker of something far too sad in Curtis’ face, for all that he set his chin up high. “Look, I don’t care what you think. I… I just expected better from you. Guess you only care about what’s between my—”

“No!” Cullen barrelled onwards, even as Curtis’ mouth dropped open again with a glower. “I don’t have a problem with you being...being you.”

“Oh, right,” Curtis said with a quick roll of his eyes. “So I’m just supposed to believe that you—”

“I saw the bruises!” Cullen actually had to grip the railing to keep from wavering when Curtis came up short, wide eyes blinking rapidly. “I… You can’t expect me not to…” He forced a breath out through the growing tightness in his throat, taking a step forward to press gentle fingers to the inside of Curtis’ wrist. “Look, I know that I didn’t go much into what happened to me, but it’s enough that if you ever need a place to stay our couch is always open. Alright?”

“Oh, God.” Curtis swallowed hard, a flutter of a smile dashing across his lips. “That’s not… Is that really what you thought was going on?” He turned his hand to catch Cullen’s before the other man could pull away. “I thought you knew.”

“That you were being hurt?” Cullen shook his head, swallowing hard against the rising bitterness in the back of his throat. “No, if I had known that I would have laid Bull out flat the moment I met him.” He frowned at the laughter that broke free from Curtis then, although the smaller man kept him from jerking back.

“Sorry, that’s just...oddly flattering, to be honest.” Curtis soothed his thumb across Cullen’s knuckles before letting his hand drop. “It’s consensual, Cullen—all of it.”

“That’s not possible,” Cullen shot back.

“It is, promise.” Curtis dropped his hand to the small of Cullen’s back. “Give us a chance to prove it?”

Cullen wasn’t unaware to whom the “us” had to be in this situation, but he let Curtis guide him down the stairs all the same. Not that even that was enough to get him to lift his head at Bull’s soft yet no less warm greeting once they slid into the other apartment. He reached for one of the throw pillows after Curtis deposited him on the couch. He knew how ridiculous he had to look with it wrapped in his arms, but it did a far better job of keeping him grounded than the mug of tea placed down before him did.

At least Bull sat down in the armchair across instead of plopping down at Cullen’s side on the couch like Curtis did.

“So,” Bull said, “it would seem that we made a mistake here.”

Cullen knew that he should bristle more at how Bull spoke to him like one of the children he worked with, but the familiar rumble of his voice remained unfairly comforting. He took a deep breath in before forcing his head up. “Do you hurt Curtis?” he demanded.

Bull, to his credit, didn’t seem shaken by the question in the slightest. “When he  _ asks _ me to,” he said. “Even then I can decide whether or not it would be too much for him to handle. But, still, he’s the one that lays out the rules, tells me what he would enjoy so that I can do my best to provide it. And if he ever needs me to stop I will. No questions asked.”

Cullen dug his fingers into the pillow. “No one ever actually  _ stops _ ,” he said. He curled back into the couch when Bull reached out, voice closing up too much for him to actually get out the words he wanted to.

“Bull,” Curtis piped up, tone casual yet firm, “katoh.”

And just like that Bull’s hand dropped, although not without a chuckle from the man himself. “Well now,” he said, “that’s certainly a way to show him,  _ kadan _ .”

“I don’t…” Cullen’s eyes darted back and forth between the other two men. “Why didn’t you just keep going? There was no reason for you to just give up like that.”

“There was when I was told to,” Bull said. “Doesn’t matter what  _ I _ think. If Curtis thinks it isn’t alright—or if you do, for that matter—that’s all that matters.”

Curtis’ hand was soft on his knee, giving him a chance to slowly unwind from the couch. “It’s called dom-sub play.” He squeezed down a bit higher, closer to Cullen’s thigh. “We can send along reading on it, if you want.”

“I… Okay.” Cullen ducked his head when both men smiled, almost involuntarily. “But...you had said something about not understanding what was being offered? What did that…” He wanted to apologize the instant that Curtis’ eyes rounded out again, but Bull’s hand was a steady press on his shoulder.

“Let me go pull up some links on the old laptop,” he said. “Give you a bit of a head start.”

“But I can still ask if I had questions?” It was comforting, to be honest, to let himself be comforted by the weight of Bull’s smile.

“Of course you can.”

*

Cullen supposed that it shouldn’t be such a surprise to find Dorian still awake by the time he got back up to the apartment, but he shifted under the weight of his roommate’s gaze. It was the sharp tone that almost had him flinching, though.

“Well then. Did you have a good time.”

“Actually...yes, I did.” Dorian made a small, befuddled noise when Cullen joined him on the couch. “You know...you could have just told me it was a sexual thing between Bull and Curtis.”

“What? You mean their relationship? Because if you managed to miss that then…” Dorian trailed off when Cullen broke into a hiccup of laughter, even as he rolled his eyes. “Oh, wait, were you…? Is that why you came up here with all those questions?”

Cullen let his head loll back against the couch, turning towards Dorian with a smile that was real for the first time in the past week. “I have  _ reading _ .” He chuckled when Dorian tried to kick him off the couch.

Perhaps things really could return to normal then. Or at least their defunct version of it.


	13. Chapter 13

Cullen hadn’t intended to do all that much with the batch of “research” Bull sent over in an email. He wanted—needed, really—to search out everything that spelled out that it was about consent overall, everything meant to be built on at least some semblance of trust rather than lust alone. The rest, he figured, would be easy enough to skim through; maybe pulling a few phrases out to tease Dorian with.

He hadn’t meant to get...well, distracted, for lack of a better word.

Sex had become a foreign, if not outright terrifying, concept in the aftermath of all that happened. Even after a good year of therapy, both physical and otherwise, any real drive for it had had yet to return. He hadn’t paid much heed to the promises that it was all to be expected, choosing to take it as a sort of comfort that his body had apparently decided to provide him with a suitable excuse.

He craved that level of detachment now, sequestered away in his bedroom, after actually daring to click on one of the video links that Bull had sent along. He didn’t want to own to how thoroughly he had searched for one that contained a very specific form of material, but there wasn’t really much of a way to hide the way his breath hitched when one of the man’s arms were bound up in a elaborate series of knotted rope.

His hand scrambled for the mute button when the man hovering above the other actually began to talk, only to jerk back when what spilled out was none of what he expected. He never thought someone could bestow  _ praise _ when all the power, even if fictionally, was in their hands. But, although the man skated around the premise behind it, the word Cullen had been expecting to kick him out entirely never came.

So, by the end, perhaps he should have been a bit less surprised by how his hips jerked upward towards the end, coming undone without even realizing that he had been edging so close to that particular edge. Not that the slide back down was made much easier when the man on the screen was using his voice to ease his lover through the shakes of his own orgasm.

_ “There you go. So perfect for me, aren’t you? Such a good boy.” _

Cullen pushed the laptop away with enough force that it yanked out his headphones in the process, slamming it closed as he sprang up from bed. Not that that turned out to be the best idea when he realized just how wobbly his knees actually were.

Christ, had it really been so long since he had done this?

He was already flushed red by the time the door open, but the start he gave at the sound sent him flopping back onto the bed in a way that certainly didn’t make it any better.

“So, I...um...hope you don’t mind, but I ordered…” Dorian’s eyebrows were fast approaching his hairline even before Cullen struggled to sit up, hands flopping down to twist together in his lap. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yes!” Cullen swallowed hard, resisting the urge to slap a hand to his face. “What did you say you ordered? You should have said if you were hungry, though. I could have—”

“Never you mind that,” Dorian cut in, hand already lifted. “You deserve a day off once in awhile. Besides, I got pizza  _ and  _  hot wings. Isn’t that considered a delicacy down here?”

“As if you don’t enjoy both too,” Cullen tossed back. He had almost managed to forget what sort of state he was in until he stood up, face tugging into a grimace. “Just...uh...let me go to the bathroom first?”

“Course,” Dorian said. “Just don’t take too long or I’ll eat at least half the slices while you’re gone.”

Cullen took advantage of Dorian’s turned back to snag a clean pair of boxers. “And listen to you gripe about your figure for the rest of the night?” he said. “I do have some survival instincts, you know.”

It earned him a jab to the side, but at least Dorian didn’t seem to notice what was bundled under his arm as he hurried down the hall to his own bathroom.

*

It left Cullen more than a little puzzled over how Dorian’s reacted to the announcement that he planned to spend Friday night down with Bull and Curtis. He hadn’t thought that it would pass without a level of surprise, given his usual homebody tendencies, but he hadn’t expected the frown that crossed Dorian’s features all but immediately.

Then again, Dorian had been the only one to seem borderline suspicious of Curtis popping into the bakery far more often than he usually would, typically with Bull in tow. Granted the excuses for being there tended to be somewhat flimsy, yet everyone else had seemed glad to see him. Even if Josephine had been left to huff when Curtis had to be dragged out from his hiding place behind Cullen by Leliana so the two women could get him to look over some of the more recent paperwork. 

None of Bull’s usual banter had done anything to assuage Dorian’s volley of somewhat probing questions, however. Cullen could only be left to hope that he hadn’t heard any of the moments when either man offered answers to his own, more intimate inquiries, given how Dorian seemed to be there, almost pressed to his side with barely any warning sometimes.

“I… I didn’t think we had plans for the night?” Cullen offered, somewhat timidly. “I can always call down to—”

“No.” Dorian was already shaking his head. “That’s hardly necessary. At least this time I’ll actually know where you’ll be.”

Cullen turned towards the fridge, sliding in the leftovers that Leliana had pressed on him, to hide his wince. “Guess that’s fair,” he managed. “There are so many bars, let alone actual clubs, around here. If I ever needed to find you when you go out I’m sure I could manage.” His brow furrowed when a witty rejoinder wasn’t quick in coming. “Did I guess wrong? Is there some new place?”

“Not that I know of.” There was something pinched in Dorian’s smile, though. “I certainly would have found it by now if there was, wouldn’t I?”

“Hey, wait a second.” Cullen reached out to snag Dorian’s wrist, pressing his thumb down against the pulse point to make the other man hold still for once. “Do you want to come with me tonight? No one would kick up a fuss over it. Pretty sure your usual wit can make up for even the trashiest of cable television.”

Even Dorian’s small burst of laughter wasn’t quite there. “Never fret,” he said, “I can handle a night without you. Just...be careful?”

“With what?” Cullen said. “It’s all okay between us now, I told you.”

“That you did.” There was a little quirk to Dorian’s lips before he broke free from Cullen’s hold. “Well, if you need me, you already know where to find me.”

“Not exactly…” Cullen sighed when the door down the other hallway slammed shut. “Right. Have fun then.”

At least where he was going wasn’t a place where everything managed to become a trial to understand all at once. Not that he was expecting such a literal example of that after Curtis all but launched into his chest as soon as the door was opened.

Bull was already chuckling by the time that Cullen glanced up over Curtis’ head to cast a befuddled glance his way. “Never mind him,” he said. “He just found out that I plan on making him eat a proper meal if he insists on having us binge on trashy television.”

“Oh, is that all?” A little squeak escaped from Curtis when Cullen bent down to scoop a hand underneath his thighs, hoisting him up against his side. It left him with arms wrapped tight around his neck as Curtis struggled to keep himself upright, which had Cullen biting down on the inside of his mouth to hold back a smile. He did let a burst of laughter slip free, though, when Curtis still clung to him when he tried to lower the other man down into a chair at the table. “Nope, I’m not going to be your out.”

Curtis stuck his tongue out at Bull when the man laughed at the sight of Curtis scrambling out of Cullen’s hold. “It’s not my fault you’re such an attractive option,” he said.

Cullen managed two long blinks before sensing the weight of Bull’s gaze on him, ducking his head as if that could let him get away from it. “Not so sure about that,” he said, “but...uh..thanks?”

“You’re not getting out of this either, you know.” Bull didn’t seem to mind the way Cullen started under the hands that landed on his shoulders, steering him towards a spot next to Curtis. “I’d imagine you’re in want of a good deal just as much as our fearless leader.”

“I eat just fine,” Cullen grumbled. It was hard to keep up a frown, though, with Curtis’ feet knocking against his own under the table.

“Of course you do,” Bull said, “but you’re also living with Dorian. When’s the last time you ate a good meal you  _ didn’t _ cook?”

“Most of the takeout places around here actually manage that pretty well.” Even Cullen couldn’t resist a smile at how Curtis crowed in delight over that, for all that Bull rolled his eyes at the two of them.

“You can show me just what  _ that’s _ supposed to be another time,” Bull said. “For now let me spoil you two brats already.”

Cullen squirmed under the inflection in the words, all of it too affectionate for even a lingering sting over the attached moniker to settle in. It wasn’t helped that such a sensation triggered a remembrance of just  _ what _ words spoken in such a cadence could bring about either.

He didn’t actually start when Curtis’ hand landed on his arm, but it was a close thing. There was an unusual amount of kindness in the other man’s gaze when their eyes met, however.

“Do you have another question?” Curtis asked.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen blurted. “I know it must be annoying.”

Something close to a giggle escaped from Curtis before he flopped back in his chair, pressing a hand over his heart. “Of course!” he said. “Being able to talk about our sexual relationship is such a hardship!”

“To be fair, he’s right,” Bull called from the kitchen. “Everyone runs away whenever we try now. Makes it pretty difficult, you know?”

Cullen wasn’t expecting the little hiccup of laughter that rose up, but his chest did feel a good deal lighter in the wake of it. “Good to know I’m the outlier.” He swallowed hard, not wanting to pass up on what he had meant to say, but unsure of how to put it at the same time. “I… I just managed to get through all the information you sent along.”

“That so?” Bull must have settled with whatever was on the stove since he had wandered over to lean against the counter. “Wasn’t as uncomfortable as expected, I take it?”

“I didn’t think it…” Cullen drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. “No, it...it wasn’t. I actually wound up...um...enjoying some of it.” 

Curtis didn’t blink away his surprise quite fast enough for Cullen not to catch it. “You did?” he said. “I… Or, well, we were worried that it might be a bit too much.” He hoisted his hands in the air a heartbeat after Cullen began to sense his expression falling. “No one told us anything! But...well...it’s not like neither of us have seen the signs before.”

“Might not know the whole of it,” Bull said, “but that doesn’t mean we’ve been asking around either. So long as you haven’t worked yourself into anything you can’t get out of, it’s not our place to interfere. It’s your story to tell, remember?”

“Yeah, I do.” Cullen swallowed hard. “But there was also something about asking for help, right? And…I think it might help if I told.”

“Well, in that case,” Bull said. “Let me get dinner on the table.” He chuckled faintly at how quick Cullen was to squawk over the hand that ruffled up his curls. “Everything seems better with a warm meal in your belly.”

*

Cullen hadn’t expected any of it to be easy. No matter how many times he had to drag all the skeletons out of his closest, it still left him with a pit of dread in his stomach each time. That he was almost always saddled with presenting it to people whose opinions actually mattered to him certainly didn’t make it any better either.

Neither Bull or Curtis ever pushed for more or tried to probe with a quick question. If he had begun to lag without even realizing it, there would be a soft touch on his knee or more beef stew piled into his bowl with some of Cassandra’s handmade bread, still warm, pressed over.

By the end of it all, though, Curtis was clinking his spoon against the insides of his own bowl somewhat absentmindedly, teeth dragging over his bottom lip. “Okay, I’m only gonna say it once,” he blurted out at last. “Really, I promise. But thank God that man’s in prison.”

“For now.” Cullen shook his head when Curtis snapped up in his chair all at once. “Then the restraining order will take affect. He’s not going to come anywhere near me unless he has a death wish.”

“Damn straight,” Bull rumbled. He was quick to squeeze Cullen’s shoulder before rising to scoop up the dishes, which did something to ease out the lingering tension. “Makes me want to apologize even more for not making sure we took everything into consideration.”

It took Cullen a few moments to catch on to the implication there, but he was quick to frown over it once he caught up. “You can’t have a plan for everything,” he said. “Handy as that would be.”

“Maybe so,” Bull said, “but when it’s for people you care about you’re meant to go that extra mile.”

“I…” Cullen scrubbed a hand across his face, trying not to let the words get clogged together in his throat. “Am I missing something here? It’s like there’s something just out of… Is any of it meant to be real?”

“If you want it to be,” Curtis said. “Remember, all you have to do is say the word and it can all stop at any time. No questions asked.”

“And if…” Cullen curled his fingers into the underside of his chair so not to squirm. “If I don’t want it to use it? Not for this.” He took in a sharp breath at the careful press of lips against his cheek.

“Then we should probably start setting ground rules.” At least the intense determination in Curtis’ eyes was familiar, of not entirely the softness that poured into his voice. “What you would like to try and what’s a definite no.”

“We’re not gonna start tonight,” Bull said. “You can start to think it over come next week. But you did say there was something you had fun with already, right?”

Cullen offered a somewhat timid smile, although it grew wider when both men returned it openly. “I… I didn’t know that you could be  _ praised _ ,” he said.

Curtis let out a soft noise that had him burying his face in Cullen’s shoulder before the other man could question him on it. Not that Cullen didn’t let out a small squeak of his own when Bull’s arm settled around the two of them.

“As if either of us would ever belittle something so sweetly given,” Bull said. He dropped a kiss to the top of either of their heads that had Cullen flushing brightly while Curtis only grinned. “Now I think there was something promised in regards to the mess you call television shows?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was going to be the chapter where the rating smacked onto here would prove needed, but everyone just wanted to talk instead. Which, to be honest, actually turned out better.
> 
> I've already discussed it in the comments, but what's developing here is just a part of the overall story, not the final pairing. So don't panic in regards to that.
> 
> In any chapters that feature sexual content there will also be warnings in the notes as the start in regards to what kinks or such might be going on. Just in case!


	14. Chapter 14

Lately, Dorian had been left with the somewhat odd sensation that his life had avoided being upended only to be left permanently tipped over to the side. 

All the of what had become the usual parts of his life were still there. It wasn’t as if he could ignore the blare of his alarm clock each morning anymore than the scent of coffee clinging to his clothes. He even got to serve as a tester for some of Cullen’s early attempts at springtime treats.

Except now he got to have moments like these where he had to stare down—or  _ up _ but his pride was already bruised enough—at the Iron Bull, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“You want Cullen to come make your drinks?” 

Bull didn’t so much as flinch under the weight of Dorian’s gaze, which would have been far more impressive if his nonchalance hadn’t been a part of what had worked him into this state. “Yep.” His lips even popped around the sound of it (of course).

“Is there a reason why my efforts are now subpar?” Dorian grit his teeth when Bull only spread out his hands by way of response. “ _ Fine _ .”

“Dorian, if you—”

“I said it was fine!” Dorian snapped. Not that any of that was enough to keep him swallowing down a bitter taste in his mouth when Cullen actually startled over him entering the kitchen. “Bull is… Well he’s here.”

“Oh!” Cullen had to lick his fingers free of buttercream when he managed to over pipe one of the cupcakes. “Just let me… Um… Just a second?”

Not that it much mattered when Cullen breezed past Dorian as if he might not even have been there. 

Dorian barely suppressed a sigh when he caught how pinched Cassandra’s face had become. “Don’t,” he said, prodding a quick finger in her direction. It earned him a somewhat exasperated huff, but at least she managed to otherwise keep her peace.

He should have lurked about in the kitchens, even with Sera’s soapy hands tugging at his arm (perhaps  _ especially _ because of that). He didn’t quite have the energy to resist Sera, though, so out he was dragged to find that she was gesturing at all of Bull’s gaggle fumbling to sign out their orders.

“Come on!” Dorian wouldn’t be surprised if he wound up with soap bubbles in his hair when Sera tossed her hands up. “Why aren’t we in on that?”

“Presumably because neither of us know sign language?” Dorian replied, only to frown when Sera gaped at him. “What?”

“Thought he was gonna teach you how to…?” Sera trailed off, eyes darting from Cullen to Dorian a few times with her brow wrinkling more each time. “Oh, come on! I thought you two were—”

“Sera!” Cassandra’s head popped out from around the kitchen door. As she saving him from any number of probing questions, Dorian rather diplomatically chose not to point out the smear of flour across her cheek. “Unless you plan on taking your break now, I suggest you get back here.”

Sera blew a raspberry that had Cassandra rolling her eyes, but she only lingered long enough to land a damp pat with her hand on Dorian’s cheek.

Dorian swiped his cheek clean only to find that Bull had lingered to exchange fond glances with Cullen as the man made the drinks. Or rather try to as Cullen kept ducking his head away, smile growing larger each time.

As everything looked about in hand as it possibly could be, he was about to spin back towards the kitchen when someone cleared their throat. He supposed it really had been too much to wish for that he  _ wouldn’t _ turn back to discover just who he thought waiting there.

Not that he was in any sort of mood to soften that opinion, no matter what threats Josephine made later with her clipboard waving terrifyingly about. “Oh no,” he said, “I am not in any sort of mood to deal with you today.”

The upward quirk of Solas’ mouth was far too smug for Dorian’s liking. “Are you ever?” he asked.

“If you insist on staying,” Dorian said, “then I’m making you tea.”

He got a certain amount of pleasure in how Solas’ mouth pursed at that. “Fine.” He rifled through the folder of papers—all with their fair share of red marks already—instead of actually bothering to meet Dorian’s eyes. “It will keep me grounded at least.”

“Enough so to make sure freshmen weep over their papers,” Dorian quipped.

“It fosters growth,” Solas shot back. “At least none of them have tried to make the reach of your ridiculous assertions. Such as how Tevinter was actually the ones to discover—”

Dorian tossed his hands up in air before he could press along that vein of conversation. “That was one time!” he said. “And I even apologized!”

“Uh…” Cullen offered a somewhat timid smile when both of their heads swiveled towards him at once. “I didn’t mean to…? There’s just someone here that says he isn’t allowed to have coffee, but is still trying to...order it?”

“I wanted to be honest.” Cole, as to be expected, hadn’t even tugged that ridiculous hat off his head even once indoors. “It wouldn’t be right for him to get in trouble.”

Dorian sighed, somewhat gratified to find Solas already dragging a hand over his face as well. “Cole,” he said, “do you remember what happened the last—and first—time that you had coffee?”

Cole tipped his head to the side, thin lips becoming even more so as he pressed them together. “No?” he said.

“And that’s why you get  _ tea _ .” Dorian rolled his eyes when Solas shot him a look from beneath raised eyebrows. “Decaffeinated tea! Say chamomile tea? Let’s face it, if it anyone deserves to drink a flower…”

“A sweet too?” Cole had bent down to peer into the display case with glee. He looked incredibly like a child when in such a state, which was perhaps why he never got scolded for pressing his hands up against the glass. “You should make ones that look like ducks!”

Dorian only tarried long enough to catch the contemplative look on Cullen’s face before darting over to busy himself with the machines. It was somewhat unfair that tea was quicker to make than any of their more caffeinated beverages. If he had more time then maybe he wouldn’t have been had to turn around to the sight of Bull beckoning Cullen over to the end of the counter to allow himself to get mooned over to full effect.

“It won’t last forever.” Cole caught the bag of baked goods before Dorian could completely drop it, cradling it close to his chest. “He’s too kind not to catch on.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Dorian sighed when Cole’s face dropped, reaching over to pat his arm before he could press on to something properly embarrassing. “You’re very kind, Cole, but this has to be worked out at our own pace.” 

(Or not at all. That sounded far better, all things considered.)

“Cole?” Solas said. “It’s time to go.” It was unnerving, truth be told, that the look he shot Dorian could only be described as sympathetic. “Do try to take care of yourself, Dorian.”

“Right.” Dorian managed a faint laugh once the two left, wondering if it was too soon to call for his lunch break. “Because that’s such an easy task.”

*

No matter how ridiculous it was, Cullen couldn’t keep from startling at the sight of Dorian all curled up on the couch at the end of the week. It didn’t help, of course, that the arch of the other man’s brow over his reading glasses forced him to acknowledge how much he had been trying to sneak about.

“You’re still—”

“Here?” Dorian sighed, pushing the bridge of his glasses up to rub at the spot on his nose beneath. “Look, I’m not here to serve as a hall monitor, alright? It’s not like I’m in any position to judge whatever it is you get up to.”

“It’s nothing…” Cullen scratched at the back of his neck, already able to feel the skin there heating up beneath his fingers. “But doesn’t that leave the door wide open?”

It was a relief, to be honest, that Dorian only laughed instead of becoming even crosser. The other man had become far harder to read as of late than Cullen would have liked. “That is does,” he said. “No doubt your hosts will be all too pleased by it.”

“I’m not…” The rest of it wound up stuck somewhere in Cullen’s throat when he caught the somewhat weary cast to Dorian’s eyes. “I’ll be safe.”

That, at least, earned him a quick smile. “That’s all I can ask for,” he said.

The quick drop of his eyes back towards the book made Cullen feel rather summarily dismissed. Not that it kept him from reaching over to ruffle Dorian’s hair on his way out, if only to catch that familiar squawking as the other man hurried to fuss over all that had been upended.

It concerned him more than it probably should, though, that the awkwardness from upstairs was so easily snatched from his mind from little more than Curtis greeting him at the door with a kiss. He searched out Bull’s face with careful eyes, but the man didn’t seem anything other than pleased even before his own lips found Cullen’s forehead.

The aspects of his various lists had already been discussed early that week, pressed between the two men on the couch in what could only be referred to as cuddling. What words he had been given weren’t quite the same as Curtis’, but he had had enough chances to test them out in places  _ not _ like this that he didn’t feel quite as nervous as he could have when tipped back onto the bed.

Or, at least, that was what the theory of the practice beforehand had been.

“Hey.” Cullen didn’t flinch away from the press of fingers at his jaw, but he couldn’t help the way almost every muscle in him tensed. Something Curtis no doubt couldn’t fail to tell from where he was straddling his hips. “Do you have a color for me?”

“Green.” Cullen sighed when Bull raised his eyebrows, even as the man’s fingers tugged their way through his hair, working the curls free from any of the gel. “Or...a little yellow, I guess. I just.. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Not a chance of that,” Curtis grinned. “Just having you like this is enough, trust me.” His fingers dropped from Cullen’s jawline to his throat, pressing in carefully as he bent down to capture the other man’s mouth with his own.

He was almost too distracted by the drag of Curtis’ teeth against his bottom lip to catch the taps Bull gave to his wrists. Not there was any form of scolding forthcoming about the momentary hesitation it took to get him to lift his arms up. Although, to be fair, Bull was quick to swipe his thumb over Cullen’s pulse point when the man shuddered over how quickly his wrists were locked together with a large hand.

“Remember,” was the rumble from above him, “no getting off until Curtis does.”

“What about you?” Cullen asked. The stretch of silence that came after made his stomach twist up, although it didn’t last long when he caught the softness in Bull’s face—almost as if he was surprised. Not that Curtis’ hands easing along his sides didn’t help too.

“Knew you’d be much too sweet.” Bull chuckled when Cullen tried to duck his head away only to have his mouth caught by Curtis before he could get far. “Tonight’s about you. Anything else can be shelved until later. Speaking of which... _ kadan _ , don’t you have a job to do?”

Curtis wasn’t quite pouting when he drew back, but the slight jut of his bottom lip formed the suggestion of it. “I’m not going to be scolded for getting distracted,” he said, “when you haven’t even seen what it’s like to kiss him yet.”

“Well,” Bull replied, “that sounds like something to be rectified.”

Cullen would have been far more embarrassed over the little hiccup of surprise that Bull swallowed up with his own kiss, if the other man weren’t so determined to use his teeth to ease his mouth open. Besides, it didn’t take long for him to grow far more concerned with the tongue that was currently sliding across the underside of his cock.

Curtis delivered a quick slap to his hip when Cullen pressed upwards before he could help it. “None of that,” he said. “I decide what you get from this.”

Cullen would have apologized if it weren’t for how quick Curtis’ mouth was to close over the head of his cock, moving down with far more ease than he would have expected (but probably should have). He didn’t have a hand free to bite down on or even to shove over his face. It didn’t keep him from trying to tug them down at least once, though, Bull’s hands forming a grip tight enough to keep him strangely grounded in response.

“Hey now.” Cullen had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from outright whining when Bull switched the hold of his wrists into a single hand, so as to press fingers along the underside of his jaw. He had tipped his head back somewhere around the point where Curtis actually got his cock to nudge at the back of his throat, eyes squeezed tight. “Seems rather rude not to look when he’s putting on such a show.”

Cullen would have kept his head where it was, if only to prove that he  _ could _ , except then Curtis began to draw his mouth back in far too slow increments, forcing his eyes to blow open wide. He still had enough control in him to glower at Bull’s chuckling, although the man hardly seemed bothered from how quick he was to draw Cullen’s head down with a gentle pressure.

It wasn’t as if he could claim that Bull was wrong either, not when Curtis’ eyes were far too bright for someone currently doing his level best to swallow a cock down around his throat. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t as if he didn’t earn that smug expression by how quick Cullen was to groan against the swipe of fingertips across his balls.

He didn’t even realize quite how loud he actually  _ got _ until Curtis was drawing back, pressing featherlight kisses to his chest to ease away the heaving that had begun to settle in. It made for an juxtaposition against the rough shove of his hips, far too quick about actually getting Cullen’s cock inside of him.

He just wasn’t expecting to have to bite down on the inside of his cheek at the sight of Curtis struggling to get his binder off. By the end it left Curtis’ hair sticking up in quite a few different directions, making him far too adorable even after Bull had grinning as he reached over to smooth it down.

Cullen must not have done quite as good a job of hiding his amusement as he thought, however, as Curtis was quick to nip at the soft patch of skin behind his ear. “What?” he said. “Am I not a good enough sight for you?”

It had Cullen swallowing down around a fresh swell of panic. There was only one sort of answer Samson would have expected out of him, if he even bothered to check in on Cullen at all. “N—No.” The idle rock of Curtis’ hips, drawing him even deeper inside of the other man, was almost a comfort. “You could never  _ not _ be a lovely sight.” He blinked somewhat rapidly, mouth going dry when Curtis went slack jawed up above him. “I didn’t mean for it—”

He didn’t get much farther than that before Curtis’ mouth slammed down over his, hard enough for their teeth to clank together. “Oh no,” Curtis said, “there’s not a chance in  _ hell _ that you’re allowed to take that back.”

If Cullen had thought it was hard to hold back before then it was even worse now with Curtis working to take all that he could offer as quickly as possible.

“Lord,  _ kadan _ ,” Bull remarked, a teasing lilt there, “don’t wanna take your time tonight, huh?”

“It’s not my… Not…  _ Fuck _ !” Curtis dragged his nails down Cullen’s chest, which had the man beneath him arching up. It was far too foolish—downright  _ insane _ actually—for him to hope that there might be a mark left behind. But, for once, that didn’t feel like such a bad thing. Not when he knew the other two would be there to chase the sting of it away as it faded. “He’s God damn incredible, Bull, and he’s not even trying at it.”

“That so?” Bull said. “Then it sounds like he should be. Quicker you get off, the quicker he can, you know.”

“That’s…” Curtis all but howled when Cullen’s own hips snapped up the next time he pressed down. “Oh, screw it, that...do that again.”

It was something of a wonder that—after however long it took to get there; time had grown hard to keep track of—Cullen didn’t come undone when Curtis did. The sight of the other man shaking apart, back bent and cheeks flushed as he clung to Cullen’s hips, was almost as much of an overstimulation as how Curtis spasmed around him.

Curtis eased off him eventually, working a loose hand around his cock. He didn’t seem at all concerned with the mess or, rather, how quick it took Cullen to make it, licking it free from his hand before kissing his way right back into Cullen’s mouth.

Cullen didn’t even realize that his wrists had been released until he felt Bull massaging any lingering discomfort out of them.

“So,” Bull asked, “there’s a great new baking show out. Something about cupcakes being involved in wars.”

It would have been an easy thing to nod, rolling into the comfortable embrace either man would have offered given the almost floaty place that his head was trying to reach. Except Cullen found himself shaking his head, able to feel the press of Bull’s hardness against his cheek. Things were always over when Samson decided, but his rules couldn’t touch at Cullen’s life. Let alone here where he was—at least in theory—meant to be the one in control.

“Wanna suck you off first,” Cullen mumbled. “ _ Then _ we can watch whatever you want.”

“We’ll do it together,” Curtis grinned, lips a sweet press against Cullen’s cheek.

“I knew it was going to be a bad idea to let you two team up,” Bull said. Yet he was smiling the whole time, something that unwound any tension that had settled in Cullen’s belly about as easily as Curtis’ fingers tracing idle designs onto his back.

*

It was unexpected, in a way, that Dorian was able to remain so unaffected by it all. Perhaps he had been given more time to prepare than he had realized as the appearance of Cullen on the couch, after nearly a weekend away, only triggered a lingering soreness. The shower the other man had taken did nothing to disguise the collection of bruises that had managed to land over the loose collar of his pajama top.

Dorian wondered how out of line it would be to suggest a shirt with a higher collar when work started up again. It should be fine so long as he could make it come across as polite, perhaps even friendly, concern rather than being triggered by the bitter taste growing in the back of his mouth.

“Oh!” Cullen’s movements were far more loose than usual as he tried to bound up from the couch. It was ridiculous, really, for Dorian to feel regretful that he hadn’t been the one to bring that about. “I can make—”

“Nope.” Dorian shuffled past a bewildered Cullen into the kitchen to tug the fridge open. “I might not be able to whip up something as illustrious as your own efforts, but it will still be just as satisfying, I assure you.”

The way that Cullen laughed once the bowels were placed down, with a cereal box nearby for refills, made something unfurl a little in Dorian’s chest. “ _ Smores _ ?” he said. “Apparently I’m not giving you enough sweets at the bakery.”

“Shut up,” Dorian said, “and enjoy your sugary slush.”

“Apologies, your Highness.” Cullen was grinning as he slotted back against Dorian, far more on instinct than the other man thought he realized. “Does this mean we can watch morning cartoons? Or do you want to try finding something more highbrow.”

“Well since I have control of the remote…” Dorian felt himself ease somewhat when Cullen tipped his head back to smile just at him, no matter how milky it might have been.

So long as he still had this—occupying some important part of Cullen’s life no one else could touch—it would be enough. At least to make sure Cullen would be as safe as Dorian intended to ensure he was.

There was no reason he couldn’t make it work—that both of them couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, finally earned that mature rating! Such scenes won't overtake the whole span of the story, though, never worry.
> 
> (Also, oh, Dorian, there's gonna be a reason.)


	15. Chapter 15

Dorian had grown used to losing Cullen for most of the weekend, by now. There were certain evenings over the work week where Dorian would rather uncomfortably find no one there to greet him, but, fortunately, those were far and in between. Cullen’s lovers seemed to at least understand that it would be rude—to put it mildly—for them to snatch up every moment of the man’s free time.

Not that Dorian could even be sure that was the right label to apply to them.

It was the easiest, no doubt, but Cullen, perhaps as only to be expected, had shied away from anything that hinted at an outright relationship, at least in the traditional way. As odd as it sounded, the best way to describe it might be “friends with benefits”; a concept that Dorian was all too familiar with himself yet found discomforting to apply to Cullen.

At least he could count on Curtis and Bull to treat Cullen better than any partners that had come before, although he tended not to like to tread too deeply into imagining just what their time spent together was like.

It drew him up short, all the same, however, to come home not only to the sight of Cullen in the kitchen, but to a smell that had him pulling a face all but immediately.

“Sorry.” Cullen offered up a quick grimace before shuffling off to try to force their windows open. “I didn’t mean to burn it, but…well, you know me.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed, dumping his bag rather unceremoniously onto the couch. It had already begun to cause his shoulder to ache from all the books he had had to lug to work, as it was. And, as always, Cullen came first.

“I do know you,” he said. “So I can tell it must have been something important that snatched your attention away.”

“You don’t have to be kind,” Cullen said, almost as a scoff.

“You’re right,” Dorian replied. “That does tend to be your job.” His lips managed a quick upward twitch, as though hoping for a smile rather than managing it, when Cullen started under the quick pat on the back. “Get to it would you?”

“I…” Cullen dragged a hand across his face before shifting to toss the burnt remains of whatever he had been trying to bake—perhaps further trials for Easter goods—into the trash. It was only somewhat less hard to watch than the pans actually being thrown into the sink, but that was probably because it came with far less noise. “Kindness isn’t always good. God knows I gave Meredith far too much of it.”

The name was spoken with about the same vitriol as Dorian would expect a curse to be given, although he was hardly about to disagree about the intent. “And why, pray tell, are we lending even a passing thought to that bitch today?” He spread out his hands when Cullen’s head snapped to him. “Figured I might as well call it as it is. Isn’t that what you Southerners always encourage with your bluntness?”

Some of the tension in his chest unwound when Cullen buried a quick snort of laughter into his arm. “Something like that.” He gripped the edge of the counter far harder than was needed, actually flinching when Dorian pressed his fingertips to his whitening knuckles. “It’s the anniversary of…” He sighed, working up the sleeve of the loose fitting t-shirt he wore. It all made very little sense to Dorian until he caught sight of the flaming sword, all done up in searing red and deep black, on Cullen’s upper arm.

“ _ Oh _ .” There was a quick pause before Dorian managed to, “And you’re here?” He felt like smacking himself when Cullen shot up all at once, mouth working around words that he couldn’t manage to get out. “No! I didn’t… I only thought that if you had a need to forget that you might want to be...elsewhere.”

“I wouldn’t want to forget,” Cullen said. “I’m all that some of them have to live on through. Besides...it wouldn’t feel right to be doing that on a day like this.”

“No, I suppose not.” Dorian tapped his foot against the worn linoleum for a handful of seconds before reaching away to snag Cullen’s sweatshirt off the coat rack. “Guess there’s only one thing for it then.”

*

If it were anyone else, Dorian’s first recommendation would have been a stiff drink. As that was out of the question, however, he was more than ready to provide an alternative.

It was worth it, if nothing else, for the bowled over look Cullen gave him for climbing up to the roof with a kettle full of steaming tea on top of all the rest.

“Are we even allowed to be up here?” he asked.

“Of course,” Dorian said. “How else do you think the plants get tended to? I swear, there would be more parties up here if Josephine weren’t so anxious that someone would topple off.”

Cullen didn’t try to stop Dorian from darting among the various plants, plucking up what was needed, although his head did wind up tilted somewhat to the side. “Who put these up here?” he said.

“A little bit of everyone,” Dorian replied. “Or at least I think so. The ones I’m taking from are only mine own...and, well, alright, some of Curtis’.” He didn’t think the other man would much mind, though, if it were to help Cullen.

“Curtis does this?” 

There was a slight smile on Cullen’s face, warm in a way that almost private, and Dorian had to swallow very hard to keep any edge out his voice. “Yes,” he said. “It’s something of a shared hobby.”

“Sigyn liked to do something similar,” Cullen mused. “Used to drive her crazy that she was never posted anywhere long enough to try growing things naturally. Not that it was much easier to get things shipped out.”

“Huh.” Dorian drew up the familiar image of the woman in his mind, almost never with her hair down, but with either her storybook husband or roguish boyfriend (a title that applied to  _ both _ members of the original couple Bull had informed them all once) at her side. He had seen their two children, a boy and a girl, plenty of times too. He didn’t think he would ever forget the moment that the daughter tried to order espresso from him in his own mother tongue. “Learn something knew every day.”

It was charming, in a way, that Cullen didn’t even question drinking what had been brewed up for him. He wasn’t able to keep his laughter at bay, though, when Cullen’s face screwed up against the sharpness of it.

“That would be the peppermint,” he said. “Don’t worry, I brought honey.”

There wasn’t much need for conversation while he set to work on the craft ahead, but Cullen filled the silence more often than not. The bakery did tend to provide plenty of anecdotes to run through, after all.

In only the past week, Vivienne had almost scared all their customers out by being too worked up to shout anything other than Orlesian down her mobile device. Dorian’s own grasp of the language had been far too rusty to pick up more than someone having done something disastrous with florals. If she hadn’t been inclined to sign out her order with Cullen then the whole lot of them probably would have been doomed.

Cullen was halfway through recapping how he had to hold back both Cassandra  _ and  _ Sera after the incident where some idiot of a man thought to use the milk left out for coffee as his own free supply for the cereal he brought with him by the time that Dorian finished.

“There we are.” Dorian rose to his feet, brushing dirt off his jeans on the way up. “Do you want to do the honors?”

It was just as well that it had taken so long to get everything put together for the lanterns—all six of them; one for each person lost—looked far better floating about in the dark sky, almost like little bits of stars.

“He’s here in the city, you know.” Cullen smacked a hand over his face. “Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to just jump in.”

“It’s more than alright,” Dorian said. “Lord knows how you keep track of my own rambles half the time.”

Cullen huffed out a laugh. “Because yours are  _ fun _ .” He shoved his hands down into the pockets of his sweatshirt. “It’s Anders, though. He’s the one that’s…somewhere out there, I guess.”

“I see.” Dorian shot a quick glance at Cullen before pressing to the other man’s side as close as he dared. It was somewhat of a relief to find that Cullen didn’t pull away even when his breath was stirring up the man’s curls. “Do you want to see him?”

He actually had to draw his head back with how sharp the shake of Cullen’s own head was. “I…” Dorian’s eyes were drawn down to the sharp bob of Cullen’s throat. “I think it would be best if I stayed away. Lord only knows what he thinks of me.”

_ That you’re a hero? _

It stuck in Dorian’s throat when he caught the gloss over Cullen’s eyes, however. “Probably better than you expect,” was what he managed instead.

He pretended not to notice the choked little sound that escaped from Cullen, although he was hardly about to resist the urge to wrap his arm around the other man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter, but more serious bits are soon to come, if you can believe it. 
> 
> (Also that moment with the cereal totally happened in our local bakery as all of us just looked on in horror.)
> 
> Making Sky Lanterns:  
> http://www.wikihow.com/Make-Sky-Lanterns
> 
> Making Herbal teas:  
> http://www.countryliving.com/food-drinks/a478/herbal-teas-0906/ 
> 
> The tea mixture Dorian gives Cullen:  
> https://www.forestwitchspells.com/product-page/life-restored-a-revival-of-the-spirit


	16. Chapter 16

Of course, fate waited until Dorian had managed to find something akin to steady footing again to toss a curveball his way. It was frustrating more than anything else to acknowledge that, given his track record in life, this was perhaps the sort of thing he should have seen coming. But, to be fair, when it all began he was too excited over Felix’s unexpected arrival to care about much else.

“What are you doing here?” Dorian asked. “Doesn’t your new schedule make a mess of…  _ Oh _ .” That he hadn’t noticed the man hovering at Felix’s side before was a bit of an embarrassment, if only for his sheer size.

Felix puffed out something close to a sigh, but it did nothing to dim his smile. One that grew only brighter when he cast a quick glance over at who he had brought with him. It all left Dorian with a creeping suspicion of just who the man had to be well before his friend spoke up.

“Carver, Dorian and much as I know I’m going to regret this—Dorian, Carver.”

“That so?” Dorian managed to keep himself from it coming out as a tease, but, really, it was too much for him not to arch a brow at Felix. “Introducing him to the family already, are we?” He dashed off to get a head start on Felix’s regular before the other man could get any further than what could only be described as squeaking. 

He could catch a burst of deep laughter from behind him, yet it was followed by a warm undercurrent of sympathetic words. That, at least, managed to score Carver more than a few points in his favor.

He didn’t think much of how close Felix was leaning in towards Carver when he came to drop off the order. At least until he caught Carver’s face scrunching up against the swell of noise around them, leading his eyes to lock onto the devices looped into the other man’s ears almost by instinct.

He made sure not to gawk, however. For all that Carver wore the aids with more ease than Cullen, he knew better than to make anyone feel called out for something beyond their control.

Not that that didn’t give him an idea in and of itself.

“Hey?” He reached around the doorway that lead back into the kitchen to knock on the wall. It had frustrated Cassandra to no end at the start, but even she had fallen quiet once it brought Cullen’s startling in the kitchen down to a minimum. “Cullen, do you want to come out and take an order?”

“What?” Cullen was already stepping out from the kitchen, following his voice with a slight tilt of his head. “Did I miss a rush? Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you out—”

“Sir?” Carver startled with far too much force when Cullen’s wide eyes locked with his own, posture going rigid all at once. “I mean, Commander, I—”

“Not on base anymore, Lieutenant.” Cullen sounded far too tried all at once. “No one’s going to haul you in for informality. Least of all me.”

“Y—Yes, sir.” Given how stoic the man’s resting face had been, it was near uncanny to see Carver’s eyes light up in such a way. Even Felix was casting furtive glances between the two men, brow growing gradually more furrowed. “I just didn’t expect to see you here.”

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up at just how clipped Cullen’s nod was. “Bit different from our typical posting, I suppose.” He scratched at the back of his head with a sigh. “Was there a reason you needed me, Dorian?”

The near dismissive aside would have stung at Dorian’s pride far more if he were entirely sure if he was the one who had actually brought it about. “Ah, well, I only figured as you can sign better than me,” he said, “that it might be better to…” He waved a somewhat weak hand in Carver’s direction, not that Cullen would have been able to catch it by how determined he seemed to keep his eyes locked on the display case.

“You can sign?” Cullen blurted out all but at the same moment that Carver said, “The Commander can sign?”

“Oh, by the…” Dorian only just managed to resist the urge to rub at his temples. “Yes, to both, such as it is. I can’t do it as well as  _ you _ clearly, but I thought you might appreciate the effort.”

“I...I do.” The usual openness returned to Cullen’s face somewhat with that surprised little smile, although the heavy weight of Carver’s gaze was almost enough to crush it.

“It was just a thought,” Dorian said. “No reason you can’t head into the back. No doubt Cassandra is already furious with me for stealing you away from prep work.”

“No...it’s…” Cullen gave his head a single hard shake before stepping up to the counter. “I can manage.”

Carver had worked up quite the frown as his fingers stumbled through his order for Cullen. It only got worse when Cullen was quick to turn away to fiddle with the machines almost immediately after. “Sir… That is… Cullen? You didn’t learn how just because of…” His face contorted into a near grimace, even with Felix looping his fingers through his own. “No, you wouldn’t have just because of—”

“You’re going to have to speak up.” Cullen’s lips were pressed tight together when he turned to set the cup down on the counter, using a napkin to snatch up one of the miniature apple pies cleanly. “Don’t really have much a right ear anymore.”

“What? But it’s still…” It was actually somewhat painful to watch the realization slowly dawn on Carver’s face. Not that the way he slammed his free hand down on the counter was much better. “It can’t have been...back then. The medics would have caught it, wouldn’t they? After all you did, you deserved—”

“Stop.” Cullen raised a hand, eyes darting away at how a muscle in Carver’s jaw jumped almost the instant he slammed it shut. “It’s nothing heroic, Carver. Not like…”

Carver actually flinched back when Cullen gestured towards the hearing aids pressed into his ears. “Are you…” He curled his fists into the fabric of his jeans only to force them to unfurl with a deep breath. “You can’t actually be serious, right? You’re a damn hero.”

“Not now.” Cullen’s smile didn’t come anywhere close to reaching his eyes. “Look, I’m grateful to have the chance to see that you’re doing well. You can’t know how much that means to me. But...don’t press anymore on this.”

Carver’s mouth flew back open, but Felix squeezed down hard on the hand in his grasp to stop him (thank God). 

“You don’t have to do this all at once. Neither of you do.” He shot a pinched glance Dorian’s way. “Can you—”

“It’s on your tab,” Dorian nodded. Anything to get the two of them out quicker. 

He only let out the breath he had been holding when the bells over the door jingled to let them out. Even then it took a minute or so for the regular conversations of the bakery to kick back in, as though everything had been shook free from their moorings after the scene.

He turned to press his fingers to Cullen’s wrist before the other man could turn away. “Want to head out with me tonight?” he asked.

“I… I had plans with…” Cullen shook his head before Dorian’s chest even had a chance to seize up. “I can cancel them. Or at least...head there after dinner?”

“I can work with that,” Dorian replied.

He had always been entirely too deft at getting the most at what little could be handed to him, after all.

*

It was gratifying, truth be told, to see how dumbfounded Cullen was to be lead away from the pubs that smattered the main roads to a diner towards the edge of town. Not that his little huff of breath, followed by a far too awestruck admittance of, “Is there any place you  _ don’t _ know?” didn’t do funny enough things to Dorian’s insides as it was.

“Oh!” Merrill was fussing over an arrangement on one of the tables, trying to get the flowers to lay just right in the pot shaped like a miniature sailboat. “You haven’t been back in a  _ while _ . And you even brought someone new?” She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. “Do you want me to hide him from Isabela?”

“Aw, kitten, you know that never works.” Even Cullen wasn’t quite able to keep a smile at bay when Isabela tossed one his way, hip cocked against the counter. “Particularly not when it’s one so sweet.”

“Alright, that’s quite enough.” Dorian pressed his hands onto Cullen’s back to steer him towards one of the booths with seats of worn blue leather. “You’re going to make Merrill jealous, if you don’t watch it.”

“Jealous?” Merrill echoed. “Why would that happen? I already know I’m the sweetest.”

“That you are.” As ever it was far too sweet to watch Merrill’s entire face wrinkle around a smile at the kiss Isabela pressed to her cheek. It wasn’t such a pleasant realization to ponder on whether he was the pot calling the kettle black for once. “And you’re hardly one to talk when it comes to placing a censure on teasing.”

“Yes, yes.” Dorian was about to drag  a hand over his face, but wound up blinking somewhat rapidly instead when a foot pressed against his other the table.

Cullen’s smile was far too soft to be borne, but then, that was nothing new. “Can’t take what you dish out?” he said.

“He’s got your number already?” Dorian only just managed to suppress a curse before turning his gaze on the man tucked into the corner booth. “Knew I liked this one.”

“Only because he can bribe you with pastries,” Dorian muttered.

“But he’s not Cole.” The tips of Cullen’s ears flared red when Varric erupted into laughter. “I only mean… Wait, were you the one who threatened to stage a protest over being cut off from coffee?”

“It’s the writing life blood,” Varric declared. “Who can blame me?”

“I can,” Merrill replied, fetching a teapot speckled in daisies from the counter. “You get twitchy if you have too much caffeine, like a particularly fuzzy breed of rabbit.”

“Daisy, tell me that’s not…” Varric was groaning by the time that Merrill poured the tea out, which had her giggling in no time. “Chamomile? Really?”

“Don’t worry,” Merrill said, “if you doze off Isabela will drive you home like always.”

“Still too good to me.” Varric raised his mug in a mock toast. “Won’t be fading off anytime soon, though. Not with such fresh material right—”

“ _ No _ ,” Dorian snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on a mystery anyhow?”

“So?” Varric tossed back. “No reason not to work in an angle about a weary detective falling for an elusive foreigner. Gives readers more to get invested in.”

“Shouldn’t Dorian be the detective?” Cullen asked. “He’s far more dashing.”  

Merrill barely put in the effort to hide her smile at Dorian’s groans, jotting down his order even though it hardly ever changed. He kept half an ear on Cullen’s back and forth with Varric until, by the time their food arrived, the man had begun to attack his laptop keys with a renewed vigour.

It struck Dorian that the sight of Cullen dipping his french fries into his milkshake really should  _ not _ come across as adorable. “So…” He bit back a sigh when Cullen swallowed far harder than was needed. “We don’t have to talk about it, you know.”

“No, there’s no reason not to.” Cullen prodded with far less vigour than only a few seconds ago at his burger. “I just don’t know how to prepare for meeting people from back then. I didn’t think it was something I’d have to deal with way out here.”

“I’m sorry.” Dorian spread out his hands when Cullen’s head snapped up to him. “I was the one that dragged you out there like that.”

“No, no.” Cullen’s foot tapped against Dorian’s ankle. “It would have happened sooner or later. I’m not about to blame you when you helped me get through it in the first place.”

It wasn’t that Dorian had never received a compliment before. To survive back home it was prudent to learn to string together at least some honeyed words. Even around the south, he got plenty of flattering remarks over his “exotic” looks; always with the same singular aim he was used to.

With Cullen, as so many things already, it was different, however. The man was already far too genuine for his own good, never realizing what exactly he could be stoking up with each gentle word.

“Careful now,” he said. “No one will thank you for inflating my ego.”

“Don’t care.” Cullen’s shoulders rolled up into a shrug, smile going somewhat lopsided. “How else can I thank you for putting up with me?”

Dorian had to bite down on his own tongue to keep from uttering what sprang to his mind all at once. Just as well that Cullen’s mobile picked up its familiar jaunty jingle barely a half a minute later, no matter how quick he had to drop his eyes away from Cullen’s instantly softening expression. Not that it did anything to block out the open affection in his voice.

No real question of who was on the other line then.

“You have to go, I suppose?” Dorian did his best not to sound glum, snagging one of Cullen’s fries to dip it into the man’s milkshake. It felt ridiculously like a betrayal that the flavor was so enjoyable once it hit his tongue.

“They’ll wait up.” Cullen stole one of Dorian’s ravioli with a grin as Dorian only barely managed not to gape at him. “Tell me about what you arguing with Solas about yesterday? When there was a line almost out the door?” 

“Will you ever let me live that down?” Dorian said.

Cullen knew a token protest when he heard it by now, though. As if Dorian would ever be able to refuse having the other man’s attention focused on him, however he could manage to keep it.

Really, that should have been his first warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the saga of just how many characters can crop up in this AU continues.
> 
> There's a chapter that I've been anticipating writing coming up next! Also I'll admit to being a phony and only ever having _read_ of this milkshake and fries trick. But I've heard good things!


	17. Chapter 17

It wasn’t as if Cullen had been unaware of the ink sprawled onto Dorian’s skin. Even without living in such close quarters, warmer weather meant shorter sleeves, leaving the the bright geometric pattern along his forearm in full display. 

Cullen might have felt more sheepish about his tendency to stare at it if he were the only one doing it. Not that he could really blame their customers; particularly not when Dorian almost always took it as a chance to show off.

Still, none of that quite managed to prepare him for actually seeing Dorian without a shirt on altogether. Although, to be fair, colliding with someone in only a towel, still damp from the shower, really didn’t do much for anyone’s rational mind.

“Ah, goodness, I was only…” Dorian gestured in the direction of the kitchen with the hand not clinging to the towel wrapped somewhat haphazardly around his waist. “Thought I’d put the kettle on. Give it a bit of a head start while I was getting dressed.”

Cullen could only nod. Their apartment, for all its faded glory, was designed with all the typical penthouse amenities, which meant en suite bathrooms. Stacked ontop of how near secretive Dorian tended to be about his morning (or afternoon, sometimes) routine, this sort of thing had never occurred as a possibility.

Not that Cullen could truly claim that that was what his mind kept getting caught on. 

“You have…” Cullen swallowed hard when he dragged his eyes upward, unable to keep from flushing under Dorian’s arched brow. “I didn’t know you had  _ more _ of them.”

“More of…” It took a quick glance down at himself for Dorian to catch on; a smile quick to form. “Did you really not?”

“No,” Cullen shot back. “It’s not like you wander around half-naked all that often.”

“Well, perhaps I should…” Dorian cleared his throat before he could finish, shifting away from Cullen’s frown. “They were my first act of rebellion, in a way. Father found them ‘tacky’.”

“Already knew he had poor taste.” Cullen held out his hands when Dorian’s head snapped back to him. “If he’s the reason you’re—”

“Oh, no, no,” Dorian cut in. “That is not a path we’re heading down today.” He sighed, knocking his shoulder against Cullen’s before the other man could choke out an apology. “Aren’t you going to ask what they’re for?”

“Don’t have to.” Cullen came close to laughing at the startled look that earned him. He tapped the snake that curled off Dorian’s shoulder in shimmering purples and greens. “This is for home, right? It… Well, it’s worked into the crest I found, right?”

Dorian shook his head, huffing out a slight laugh. “Good eye.” He gestured at the bright dots spotted across his upper chest. “And…?”

“Come on,” Cullen snorted, “you're an astrophysicist. Why shouldn’t you cover yourself in constellations?”

“I’m  _ studying _ to be one.” Dorian shook his head when Cullen rolled his eyes. “There’s a difference and you know it, Rutherford.”

“Fine, fine.” Cullen narrowed his eyes at what overtook the top of Dorian’s right arm. At least the other man only chuckled at the groan that escaped from him. “Is that… Why do you have a skull with  _ peacock  _ feathers around it?”

“Because having a snake through it wouldn’t be original?” Dorian’s shoulders were already shaking with renewed humor, however. “When trying to work Halward Pavus into a tizzy, the flashier, the better.”

“Suits you then.” Cullen ducked away from the hand that darted out to smack him. “Did you come with the design on your own?”

“Not entirely. The actual person doing it did bring it to life a good deal better than…” Dorian trailed off, eyes narrowing. “Wait, I know that look.”

Cullen had to bite down on the inside of his mouth for a moment to keep from coming off quite so giddy. “I… Well, I might have a plan to run by you? After you get some pants on that is.”

*

All things considered, Cullen really shouldn’t have been so surprised that, once he ran things by Dorian, the entire bakery was in on the concept within a day at most.

“ _ No _ .” Cassandra tore the page free from Sera’s sketchbook, crumpling it high over the girl’s head, no matter how she tried to leap for it. “For the last time, nothing with cupcakes.”

“But it suits him!” Sera fired back. “He’s all sweet and…” She lurched over the table to prod a finger into Cullen’s softening sides, cackling when he squawked.

“It is supposed to be for the bakery?” Josephine hoisted up her hands, smile somewhat timid under the weight of Cassandra’s glower. “Or not!”

Thank God that all of this had been put off until all the customers left for the day. 

“It’s not…” Cullen bit back a sigh. “I didn’t expect to get this far, you know? At least not with all...all of  _ this _ too. So, I want to do something to commensurate it. If I can.”

“Of course.” Cullen knew he should have kicked up more of a fuss over how quick Bull was to mess up his hair by ruffling it, but it still filled him up with far too much warmth to care overly much. “Now, what about a big old dragon across—”

Cassandra wasn’t the only one who raised their voice to interrupt this time, although Sera certainly got points for managing to bounce an paper coffee cup off Bull’s head. Not that it wasn’t for the benefit of all of them that she had at least managed to find an empty one to lob.

“No reason it can’t be an animal, though.” Curtis rolled his eyes at the incredulous look Dorian was quick to shoot his way. “Hey, I’m not asking him to run around with an ‘ancient symbol’ sprung from the internet.”

“You sure?” Cullen snapped up a little straighter, a shiver rolling down his spine when Bull dragged a finger over the back of his neck. “Could write whatever you want right—”

“Not permanently!” Dorian dragged a hand over his face, although not fast enough to hide his grimace. “And certainly not in public either.”

Cullen could sense the tension that drew Bull’s frame up even more than usual, but, even as he turned his head to speak up, Curtis’ hand was on his knee. He couldn’t keep from swallowing hard at the abrupt intensity in those narrowed eyes, despite the familiar, casual slide of his smile.

“Hey, Sera, can I borrow one of your—”

“Later!” Cullen could feel his face heat over how his voice had to hitch around a squeak when he forced the word out. “Isn’t there some sort of role about getting the name of your…someone you’re in a...thing with?” He resisted the urge to knock his head off the table when Sera mouthed, “Thing?” with her fingers bending into quotation marks, unable to keep a grin from her face.

“Wouldn’t have to be something like that,” Bull said. “Not if you don’t want it.” His finger hooked in the collar of Cullen’s shirt, only drawing it back with a faint chuckle when Cullen drew in a sharp breath after connecting the dots. 

Dorian’s eyes lingered for just long enough to have Cullen’s fingers curling inwards, even as his shoulders rounded out. He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or not when the gaze dropped away. “No reason it can’t be an animal, so long as it’s done right. But it should be something noble...protecting.”

Cullen’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, making it even harder to work out what he wanted than usual. “You think that’s… That isn’t…”

Leliana curled her fingers over his wrist, squeezing gently until his heartbeat returned to something more regular. “It is,” she said.”Which does give one ideas.”

It was probably for the best that Cullen interjected with his own before Bull could get all the way pushing for dragons again. He wouldn’t put it past Cassandra to actually put in the effort it would take to pitch the man out.

*

Even once a more concrete plan had been established, Cullen wasn’t entirely forthcoming on when he actually wanted to carry through with it. At least until Sera had begun to detail what fireworks she had managed to smuggle in for the annual festivities. There was nothing new there—not even with Sera’s claims to have tried making some of her own—but the tension that snapped through Cullen certainly was.

Despite any protestations of nothing being amiss, he certainly didn’t turn down a chance to slip away. And, for once, he didn’t let any slip of displeasure show over Cullen being gone from the apartment more nights than not over the next week.

He would have found greater fault over Bull and Curtis  _ not _ trying to make certain that all was well with someone they claimed to care about. The send off kisses were a bit harder to swallow, but at least it meant Cullen had a smile on his face for almost the entire bus ride up to Redcliffe.

The discovery that Dorian had actually booked a room at the local bed and breakfast was charitably received right up until Cullen realized that he actually planned to be paying for all of it.

“Oh, none of that!” Cullen, it would seem, though, was prepared to match Dorian glower for glower from where he was perched on the end of the bed. “You’re paying for quite the tattoo as I remember. Besides, it’s your own fault for not informing us that we  _ missed _ your birthday. And after you baked me a whole damn cake for mine!”

“Mine’s too close to Christmas for…” Cullen knocked away the foot Dorian tried to jam against his side, although he wasn’t entirely successful at holding back a laugh. “Dorian, you have to let me—”

“Buy dinner tonight?” Dorian said. “After you hop in the shower to prepare for getting inked? What a splendid idea!”

He wound up getting swatted at with a pillow for that, but, even while sorting out the mess it had made of his hair, it was difficult to feel too put out when he had Cullen’s laughter echoing about the room.

*

As it was what passed for metropolitan in the area, it took a bit more effort to navigate Redcliffe. To be fair, though, it wasn’t as if there efforts were made any easier by the place being tucked off a side street already off a bit from the main street. Rather fitting, honestly, of a place that’s silvery neon sign informed you it was dubbed “Ghost”.

He was accustomed to the slight lift of eyebrows he got when he came in—it was a step above the glare he had started out with—but it was unnerving to watch Fenris’ lips quirk up just a touch at seeing Cullen.

“This better not be about the flaming heart, Pavus.” He huffed out something terrifyingly akin to a laugh when Cullen’s brow furrowed. “He was drunk. A rather standard—”

“Yes, yes,” Dorian said. “You can swap all sorts of horror stories about me while you’re tattooing  _ him _ .”

“I…” Cullen cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot for a moment when Fenris leveled his gaze on him. Not that Dorian could blame him; the artist did tend to have that effect on people. “I made an appointment?”

“Better and better.” Fenris snorted at the toss of Dorian’s hands into the air, cocking his head towards Cullen instead. “Let’s get you sorted then.”

Although Dorian didn’t want to admit it outloud, he had had certain worries about a needle being so near to Cullen’s skin. None of the tools Fenris laid out would be using the kind that Cullen had once been so familiar with, but that didn’t stop them from  _ looking _ similar.

No matter how carefully he watched Cullen’s face, however, there wasn’t so much of a flinch under the press of the tattoo gun. There was only a soft hiss whenever the needle arched towards the thinner skin around his collarbone.

It was Dorian, rather, that almost leapt out his skin when fingertips brushed against the inside of his rest.

“Ah...sorry?” Cullen said. “Didn’t realize you’d be the nervous one here.”

“Yes, well, apparently I underestimated you.” Dorian hadn’t meant for it to come out quite so literal, pressing his lips together when Cullen frowned. It didn’t mean that he should have caught Cullen’s hand with his own, but it wasn’t as if the man made any effort to pull away. “I could always tell you a story.”

“Now that,” Fenris said, “I’d like to see.”

“I am a man of many talents,” Dorian huffed.

“That you are.” Cullen looked puzzled more than anything else when Fenris snorted. “No, really. I didn’t think anyone actually knew all the legalities to talk someone out of demanding their food be free. Let alone have them all memorized.”

Dorian came fairly close to falling out of the chair when Fenris actually chuckled over the buzz of the gun. Of course, the sound of it only got louder than, although Fenris didn’t seem all that perturbed by the glare shot his way.

“Now  _ that _ ,” the artist said, “I want to hear.”

*

Dorian had had enough of his own experiences to know how to prepare. It was why, even if dinner was to come soon enough, he still pressed a bottle of water and a ziplock of the man’s own cookies at him. Just as well too since getting done up with ink apparently made Cullen  _ giddy _ , for lack of a better word.

He had listened with half an ear to Fenris’ wrap up, eyes locked on the mirror. Not that Dorian could much blame him for it. The stylized lion helm was as gorgeous as he had expected it’d be; the bronze drawing out the golden undertones in Cullen’s skintone.

By the end of it, Fenris simply turned the packet over to Dorian with a firm, “Take care of him.” As if Dorian hadn’t been doing that from the start of all this nonsense.

“So, do you have a preference on…” Dorian sucked in a sharp breath as, no sooner after leaving the shop, Cullen slung an arm over his shoulder to pull him in close.

“Thank you for this.” Cullen outright giggled when Dorian shook his head. “No, no, you didn’t… You didn’t even have to put up with me, let alone…”

“Right,” Dorian scoffed, “because you’re such a hardship.”

“I really am.” Cullen didn’t give Dorian a chance to cut in, turning his head towards the other man. That their noses brushed against one another in the process hardly seemed to matter. “Guess you’re just special. Like this whole year has been, really.”

There was no witty rejoinder Dorian could offer for that. Not when he was staring down at Cullen’s open, easy smile that made the skin wrinkle around eyes that were far too earnest in their affection.

Platonic affection, that was. The sort that was very much not what was responsible for making Dorian’s heart constrict all at once, skin tingling in every place Cullen made contact.

Oh,  _ fuck _ , when had he been stupid enough to fall in love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems fitting that this would break a 100 pages on it's word document over the major turnabout chapter.
> 
> I've never gotten a tattoo myself, but family members of mine have them (and have encouraged me to) while I tagged along for an appointment for one with withcoffeespoons.
> 
> Further research (of a sort): http://www.highpriestess.com/tattoo/faq/preparing-for-a-tattoo/


	18. Chapter 18

“I think Dorian might be avoiding me.”

Cullen grimaced even before the words had entirely escaped from his mouth. He meant to lay it out with more grace than that, but sex, as he was quickly learning, had a tendency to make his head even more of a mess than usual.

Bull’s fingers barely paused for more than a heartbeat in the process of rubbing circulation back into Cullen’s wrists, but all of his nerves were too sharpened by now not to notice. He didn’t quite manage to bite back the groan quite unlike any of the ones from earlier when he caught Bull exchanging a quick glance with Curtis either.

“Never mind, it’s not—”

“Hey now.” Cullen drew in a careful breath when Bull pressed his lips to the inside of his wrist. “You wouldn’t have bought it up if it wasn’t bothering you.”

“But it  _ shouldn’t _ ,” Cullen replied. “He has his own life. He’s entitled to do what he wants with it.”

Dorian was still as civil as ever. If the workplace discussions had been cut down then it was because the tourism surge had made things busier than usual. He couldn’t even kick up a proper argument on Dorian being gone from the apartment more nights than not when the same had begun to become true of him.

“Doesn’t give the permission to be rude with it, though.” Curtis was too quick to kiss away the disgruntled sound that rose up in Cullen’s throat. “He can get this way sometimes; working himself up over nothing. Just needs to be dragged back to focus.”

“I can relate.” Cullen turned to nip at Curtis’ ear, laughter bubbling up, unbidden, when the other man yelped. At least it chased away the frown that had been settling in. “Let me handle it?”

“Course,” Bull said. “Just don’t be afraid to call in the calvary.”

Cullen nodded more unconsciously than he probably should have. He wouldn’t let himself call anyone else into any of this, regardless, so, at least for now, it seemed a moot point. 

*

Dorian had barely had enough energy to put on more than a cursory bit of makeup and was wondering whether it was worth it to pick out some jewelry to make up for it. An action that probably would have progressed further if Cullen’s presence in the living room hadn’t drawn him up short.

“Hello there.” The timorous tilt of Cullen’s smile made Dorian want to sink into the floor even more. “You look good.”

Dorian pressed out a huff that barely had enough humor in it to count as a laugh. “You don’t have to be kind,” he said. As if Cullen knew how to be anything else, which, truth be told, was part of the problem by now.

A little furrow gathered on Cullen’s brow. “I’m being honest,” he shot back. “And I know I’m not up to… Well I might not look it but…”

“Use your words, Cullen.” Dorian had meant for it to come out as a tease, but it registered too flat not to make Cullen flinch. All the more reason for him to kick himself out sooner rather than later.

“Thought you might want some company.” Cullen shoved his hands into his pockets, Adam’s apple bobbing from how hard he swallowed. “I wouldn’t make you change your plans on wherever you’re going—”

“No.” Dorian patted Cullen on the arm with no small amount of awkwardness in an effort to soften the blow. “It’s not that I wouldn’t appreciate having you there, but the place I’m going isn’t… Well, I can’t imagine Bull  _ or _ Curtis would be all that comfortable letting you go there. You’d get snatched up in a second.”

“That’s beyond their control.” Cullen’s smile got a little more solid under the incredulous look Dorian shot his way. “Our...thing...isn’t like that. All that matters is that I’m safe with what they do.”

“Sera was right.” Dorian cocked a brow when Cullen titled his head. “Calling them your ‘thing’ sounds ridiculous.”

Cullen’s laughter was enough to wrinkle the corners of his eyes and, for a brief moment, everything actually felt back to normal. “You try coming up with something that doesn’t sound juvenile instead,” he said. “Speaking of which, I really should—”

His fingertips only just managed to graze over Dorian’s wrist before the man in question was yanking it back. From how quick Cullen’s face was to crumple, though, anyone would have thought that Dorian had lashed out at him.

“I…” Cullen spread out his hands. “Just thought I might whip you up something to eat quick. Don’t know if you’ll have much of a chance when I’m out.”

Dorian could actually feel how brittle his smile was; trying to spread it further only made him feel as though it was close to cracking. “Thank you,” he said, “but I’ll be fine. Maybe tomorrow?”

“There’s work then,” Cullen replied.

Dorian had to do his best not to bristle under the slight accusation tucked away into the other man’s tone. “Never stopped me before.” It was cruel, almost, how quick Cullen’s face was to furrow with concern. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself.”

All this hard work couldn’t be for nothing, after all. He only needed was perhaps one more week. That should be more than enough to flush this ridiculous decision out of his system.

*

In retrospect, Dorian should have been far more wary when, at the end of the work drag, Leliana turned her away from the apartment. Josephine being out on yet another date was hardly an actual excuse, after all. Particularly not when Leliana typically pristine demeanor showed unexpected signs of strain.

He could understand what it was like to not want to be pressed into discussing what was on your mind, however. So he had swallowed down the transparent explanation easily enough. Something made it all the more ironic when he turned to head back upstairs to prepare for a night out instead only to find Bull blocking the way.

“Please tell me you’re here to offer me a drink,” Dorian said.

“Sounds like you might have tapped out on that already.” Bull had the gall to actually smile under the weight of his glare. “Come on, no reason to have a conversation like this in the hall.”

Dorian thrust his hands up when Bull tried to reach for one. “I am not about to intrude on…” He had to bite down on the inside of his mouth to keep his face from scrunching up. “There’s no reason for me to interrupt whatever it is you’re up to in your space.”

“Cullen’s out to dinner with Cassandra,” Bull said. “It was an open invitation, so Curtis is with him, although I had to beg off.” 

“So you can harass people in hallways?” Dorian snapped.

“He probably would have invited you too,” Bull carried on as if he had never spoken up. “If you weren’t so determined not to be near him anymore.”

“Oh for God’s…” Dorian cut himself off with a quick shake of his head. “No, this isn’t the sort of thing I’m talking about with—”

“Well tough luck,” Bull said, “because it sounds like you need to do just that with  _ someone _ .”

“And you’re the man for the job?” Dorian asked.

“Apparently,” Bull said, “not that I’m complaining. Curtis is too aware of boundaries to want to overstep them, you see. Could say the same about Cullen too.”

“There aren’t any ‘boundaries’,” Dorian said. The bite was easing out of his voice bit by bit, however, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

“Seems like there weren’t until you decided it was time to slam them all down.” Bull spread out his hands when Dorian drew himself up again. “Look, I’m not here to give you the shakedown, alright? Just giving you a head’s up that maybe Cullen needs you more than you think.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Dorian sighed when Bull raised his eyebrows at him. “I’ll get it together. Just...you know...take care of him until I do.”

“Easy promise,” Bull said. “Just remember that he’s going to need his best friend sometime soon too.”

Dorian snorted as he got to push his way around Bull at last to get up the stairs. “Right,” he muttered, “the role I’m best suited for in this debacle.”

Bull let out a quiet sound in his wake, everything piecing together with far more haste than Dorian probably wanted.

Of all that could have happened, this was probably the one that all of them should have seen coming. Not that that made it any clearer what to do about it.

*

For once, Dorian let the weekend pass entirely indoors. Not that it made much of a difference with Cullen seemingly have traded off on being the absent one.

It did put things in a rather grudging sense of perspective, though. 

The apartment had never seemed more empty than when he couldn’t track Cullen’s snuffling, near snores down the hall or find him making a mess of the kitchen in some worthwhile endeavour. Even the television didn’t hold the same appeal when he kept searching out their shared favorite shows by instinct, none of it entirely the same without Cullen’s running commentary in his ear.

He didn’t even know quite when the other man had come back. All he was aware of was that he had been rolling his eyes at Cupcake Wars one second, only to come to with a blanket tucked in around him and the television turned off.

It might have actually been somewhat relaxing if it weren’t coupled with the realization that it was Monday morning. Even hopping out off the couch, despite all the cramps that came with actually sleeping on the lumpy thing, and dashing off to toss on something reasonably presentable, didn’t get him to work as on time as he would have liked.

He couldn’t have picked a worst day for it, by the looks of it either. Having a line nearly out the door was hardly common, after all, so he could hardly blame Josephine for stopping the in the middle of setting up the outside tables to grab his arm.

“Oh, thank God.” She let him go when people’s eyes began to shift in their direction, patting at the spots in her bun where wisps of hair had begun to work their way undone. “You need to go inside.”

“Are you sure?” Dorian asked. “No reason not to pitch in on this first.”

Or at least there wasn’t until Josephine uttered, “It’s Cullen.”

It said something rather pleasant about their early morning regulars that there was no crowd for Dorian to fight through to get to the back. If anything, the lot of them seemed just as concerned as he was; not that he could piece together whether that was actually good or not.

Cassandra’s face was pinched when he came in and, for once, he didn’t argue over the spots of flour her fingers were bound to leave on his shirt when she tapped his elbow. “He’s in the back,” she said.

Sera jabbed a dish brush at him as he passed. “Fix him.” Her tone was uncharastically quiet as her eyes darted over to the corner that Cullen had tucked himself into. “Doesn’t seem right when he’s like this.”

“I’ll do my best.” A hard promise to keep, it seemed, when Cullen pressed his face into the arms as soon as Dorian got close. “Cullen? Come on, it’s just me.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.” That would have torn at Dorian’s heart far more if it had been the only thing Cullen forced out. “I wrecked your day too. Should have ducked out to make sure you had woken up on time. Or got you up to actually get into bed when I got home. But I didn’t even think about your alarm not being there. I just wanted you to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Well, I can hardly blame you for that.” Dorian crouched down, hesitating for just a moment before settling his hand atop Cullen’s head. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I screwed up,” Cullen said. “It should have been easy. I’ve been making the recipe with my mom since I was a kid; there shouldn’t have been any need to write down. And I’ve been doing  _ better _ too, so I was so sure I could get it right.”

“Nothing seemed to have exploded when I came in.” The corners of Dorian’s lips twitched upwards when Cullen managed a fairly watery little laugh. “So it couldn’t have been all bad.”

“But it was!” Cullen’s head darted upwards unexpectedly, causing Dorian’s fingers to slide through his curls. “I dusted the berries in the pies with  _ salt _ instead of sugar. What sort of person in their right mind does that?”

Dorian only just barely kept himself from wincing at the stress with which Cullen strung together that turn of phrase. “You made a mistake,” he said. “It happens to the best of us.”

“And what if I make more?” Cullen demanded. “Because I know I’m going to. I’ll keep doing it until there aren’t enough excuses left to keep…” He trailed off, blinking somewhat rapidly when Dorian tugged on his hair.

“There we are.” Dorian took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You’re forgetting that you’re part of a team here. If one of us slips up then the others are there to fix it. So what if berry pies are off the menu today? Don’t you trust me to sell up all the other dazzling things you did make?”

“Of course I trust you,” Cullen said, far too sincerely in that quiet voice, “but you… I’d only be invading your…” He chewed on his bottom lip, pressing on before Dorian could force something out from his ever tightening throat. “I don’t know what I did wrong? Can you tell me, please?”

Dorian didn’t actually gasp, but it was a close thing. That was left to Cullen, apparently, as he dropped his grip on the man’s hair to drag him into a hug. “You didn’t do anything. I just made a mistake.” He took a steadying breath before drawing back, plastering on his most winning smile. “Think you can forgive me?”

“If you give me a few minutes to clean myself up?” Cullen swiped at his nose with his shirt sleeve, chuckling when Dorian’s face twisted up in distaste. At least he looked a bit more like himself when he met Dorian’s eyes next. “And let me cook dinner for you tonight.”

“Let me order out for us instead,” Dorian said, “and it’s a deal.”

He eased out a sigh when Cullen nodded, rising to his feet. He didn’t like that it had taken him so long to reach such an understanding, but at least he had been able to use it to keep Cullen from toppling too far.

He had wanted to ensure that Cullen was taken care of almost from their first proper meeting. There was no reason why his own feelings—worrisome as they were—should interfere with that.

He could manage to be only Cullen’s friend if it meant Cullen would be safe. And, given time, there wouldn’t be any part of him that wanted to press for more.

(Hopefully.)


	19. Chapter 19

The overall topic hadn’t been made entirely off limits around the bakery, but, still, families weren’t often discussed around the bakery. Granted, as Josephine was the only one other than Cullen who took advantage of extended holiday periods to head out of Haven altogether, perhaps such a thing should have gone without saying.

It had taken a bit more experience out in the world for Cullen to realize that having a family as warm and close-knit as his own was a privilege. There were dysfunctions, to be sure; all only brought out more after all that he had done. But, even if he was somewhat shaky at it now, he still knew how to navigate around each without too much pain.

He was entirely too aware that none of them were actually _required_ to accept him back in their lives.

He didn’t think he would have been able to face such a rejection the same indifferent scoffs Cassandra gave her uncle’s letters or the flippant way in which Sera cursed out her foster mother. It had been difficult enough to keep his voice level when Curtis’ parents had made one of their infrequent calls, insisting that there certainly wasn’t any “Ellana” that worked there, so perhaps it would best not to call back.

(It had been difficult for Josephine to hide her amusement after having to snatch the phone up when it rang barely a second after Cullen had slammed it down.)

Even Dorian had been far from subtle about his own familial concerns, which had only left Cullen with an even greater determination not to pry. It wasn’t as if the other man ever questioned why Cullen never looked quite as good as he should after calls from home, simply waiting until it was over to regale him with exploits from the weekend.

Not that any of that was enough to keep Cullen from feeling rather out of the loop when Felix was more than a little bit dragged into the bakery by a woman capable of making even her casual wear appear the best sort of fashion statement.

“Um…” Cullen was barely able to keep a brow from lifting when the woman whipped off her sunglasses to place them atop her head. “Felix, you’re not stepping out on Carver, are you?” He thrust up his hands when Felix flushed all at once, stammering rapidly even as Cullen shook his head. “N—No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just… Dear _Lord_.”

The sound that cut through the tension wasn’t quite a giggle, but it came close. Particularly with the bright quality of the woman’s smile to accompany it. “You were right,” she said. “I _do_ like him.”

Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, flushing all the harder at the realization that he was no doubt smudging flour over the skin there as a result. “I’m going to take that to mean something good?” he managed.

“Quite right.” The woman hoisted a hand across the counter, seemingly unperturbed by the lingering bits of flour on Cullen’s hand as she shook his. “I’m Maevaris Tilani. Has Dorian managed to mention me yet?”

“Uh...no, he…” Cullen snapped his fingers. “But he does have a photo of you on his desk. With Felix, I think?”

Maevaris appeared far more taken aback by that than he would have expected, her smile turning towards something far softer. “That’s Dorian for you, I suppose,” she said. “Always a dear at the most unexpected of times.” She sighed, hoisting her purse up enough to thumb through the contents. “Which only makes this all the more awkward, truth be told.”

“I can get Dorian for you?” Cullen offered. “He’s out in the back handling a shipment, but there’s no reason I couldn’t take it over.”

“No, no,” Maevaris replied. “It’s actually better for him not to be here for this.” She slid an envelope across the counter that Cullen could tell at a glance wasn’t made from standard stock. A detail that got all the clearer when he actually picked it up to find the Pavus crest stamped into the back to seal it closed.

“Halward typically sticks to phone calls,” Felix said, “but sometimes he gets tired enough of those going unanswered to try…”

“This nonsense.” Maevaris shook her head, already sighing. “I only took the ‘duty’ to avoid him dispatching one of his own sort. Dorian always reads them even though he claims he won’t. The end result is a call home, almost always under the influence and always ending in tears.”

“So,” Felix said, “it might be better to…” He didn’t make any actual effort to keep Cullen from tearing the letter open, however.

He didn’t plan to do much more than scan it. Even if he had given into the impulse to peer inside, it still didn’t feel quite right to examine something so clearly meant for something else. Or, at least, that had been the plan until his eyes began to catch more than he had meant.

_“We are disappointed that you haven’t even considered… Certainly did not raise you to be so cruel… However, if you insist on…”_

“Cullen?” Dorian offered up a soft sound when Cullen spooked away from the touch of his hand at his shoulder. “Did I miss something?”

“Um…” Cullen stared down at the ripped paper in his hands, able to hear his heartbeat rushing into his ears all at once. “I didn’t mean… It wasn’t… None of it was good...I’m sorry.”

“As if you should be the one apologizing.” Maevaris reached over to brush her fingertips over his cheek. “Does seven o’clock sound good?”

“For what?” Dorian was still staring at the bits of paper in Cullen’s hands with a look that seemed strangely like awe.

“Dinner!” Maevaris declared. “Clearly I have been missing out on all the good parts of your life.”

Cullen lingered as Dorian bickered with Maevaris about the night’s menu while preparing Felix and her orders. He didn’t dare look up even as Dorian cocked his hip against the counter once they were gone, gently untangling what was left of the letter from his hands to toss it in the trash.

“I know you don’t hear this enough, which is why I’m going for it.” Dorian’s fingers were a gentle pressure on his chin as he eased his head up. “But you’re a good man, Cullen Rutherford.”

“Whoa, whipping out the full name?” Sera called. “Must be serious.”

“Oh, please,” Cassandra said, “that’s not the _full_ name. Otherwise there would be—”

“Thank you!” Cullen rolled his eyes when Cassandra’s own chuckles rose to match Sera’s sniggers. He caught Dorian’s wrist before the other man could move away, though. “I don’t…” He swallowed hard; words had the habit of coming a good deal harder when under the weight of Dorian’s gaze. “I can only try to be a good one. But I’m glad I can be for you.”

It was worth it, if nothing else, for how quick Dorian’s face was to crinkle with a smile.

*

Cullen didn’t realize how long it had been since everyone had gathered together until the lot of them were all pressed into the penthouse.

With the week that Maevaris had cleared to make her trip down south about to be up, Sera had declared that it was time for her to be shared at last. She had certainly made enough of an impression on the rest of the bakery staff, determined to whisk through as much of the menu as possible before she had to leave.

It helped, of course, that an excuse for a party of any kind was an enough to be praised by his co-workers.

“Cullen!” Sera wound up half flopped over the counter, hands stretched out towards him. “Get out of the kitchen so you can beat Dorian at his stupid, fancy pants game.”

Cullen could track Dorian to where he was by the other man’s indignant sputtering alone. “Chess?” he said. “How is that—”

“Because Uno is for _heathens_.” Dorian didn’t even have the excuse of alcohol for his dramatics. No matter how much Cullen might try to convince him, the rule stood, at least in Dorian’s mind, that he would never drink within their shared space. “Particularly ones that cheat!”

“As if you’re one to lecture about that.” Cullen chuckled when Dorian gaped at him. “I’ve paired off you at this before, remember? Your sleight of hand isn’t nearly as good as you think.”

To his surprise, Dorian didn’t even bother to protest. Instead his head tipped to the side, smile soft enough to have Cullen swallowing hard. “I feel as though I should be offended by that,” he said, “but somehow I’m actually proud.”

None of their guests were nearly as good at pretending _not_ to glance between them as they thought, so it was something of a relief to have his phone start to buzz in his pocket.

“Hello?” His brow furrowed, swiveling away from the swell of laughter from behind him once he caught a hint of the voice on the other end. “Mia?”

“You know…” Somehow it was more unnerving to hear his sister’s tone be soft than harsh. It was a trait she had to have picked up from their mother. “I distinctly remember someone’s New Year’s resolution supposed to be keeping in touch more.”

“I sent a response through the email chain.” Not that anyone who glanced at the timestamp couldn’t see how long he had taken to do so. “Duty fulfilled.”

“A sentence to a full letter?” Mia said. “You didn’t even answer about the—”

“Because it isn’t relevant anymore!” Cullen grimaced when he caught Felix shooting him a concerned look. It had been bad enough that the other man had thought he shouldn’t bring Carver along tonight. “None of you need to know what goes on in therapy sessions or what my sponsor’s name is. Not even Mom.”

“She just worries about you.” There was nothing like a sigh from Mia to make Cullen’s chest tight with guilt. “We all do, Cullen.”

“But I’m doing _good_.” Cullen glimpsed over his shoulder, lips quirking into an unconscious smile at everyone cheering Maevaris on in her match against Dorian. “You don’t need to spend every day stressing over whether I’m going to… There are more than enough people to look out for me here.”

“Like your friends with the...uh...benefits?” Mia wasn’t able to keep her laughter at bay when he groaned, but, really, it was far nicer to hear than what had come before. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told. But that doesn’t mean I’m not still rooting for—”

“I am hanging up on you now,” Cullen warned.

“Guess I deserve that,” Mia replied. “Tell Dorian I say hi, though. Or, if you want, you can tell him that he should totally—”

“ _Goodbye_ , Mia,” Cullen insisted, hanging up on her giggles.

He didn’t expect to run into Felix on his way back into the thick of it, but the way the man’s eyes darted away from his own made up his mind for him.

“Hang on.” Cullen reach out to catch Felix by the elbow, offering up a smile when the man turned to blink at him. “Would you mind asking Carver to come over? That is, if he can make it? I’m pretty sure that I owe him a proper talk.”

*

It had been easier than Cullen would have expected to sneak up to the roof. The more unexpected concern only came on when Carver had gotten up there with him, surveying their surroundings with a wary glance.

“I know it’s been awhile,” he managed, “but I hope you still think well enough of me to know that I’m not about to pitch you off of anything.”

“Course not!” Carver’s face crumpled up somewhat sheepishly at the arch of Cullen’s brow. “Helps that Felix is probably still right on the stairs.”

Cullen didn’t even bother to hold back his laughter, although it trickled off when Carver began to scuff his boot along the ground.

“I…” The other man ducked his head away, rubbing a hand over his face. “Felix told me that you had had an accident. That’s all Dorian would give him for an explanation.” 

“Oh.” Cullen hadn’t even expected Felix to have inquired after it. He came close to a smile, though, at learning that Dorian had offered up a protection without even bothering to ask. “It didn’t happen in the service...but I figure you already guessed that.”

Carer would never have expressions quite like his siblings; those that had been gathered around the hospital bed when Cullen had come to pay his own respects. His face fell serious in repose, unlike the laughter lines that had already set into theirs, with even his smiles coming all the slower.

Cullen had only watched Carver become truly thunderous like this a handful of times, however. Truth be told, he counted himself fortunate that he even managed to get through the story at all before the other man erupted.

“That’s not right. None of it is! Why would…”

Cullen’s shoulders were rolling back in a near instinctual way to brace himself; already far too familiar with this line of questioning. It had been all drawn about in the hospital, once all of his family was at last able to pack into a single, too bright room.

All thinly veiled probes at how a person with his (supposed) integrity couldn’t have known enough to stop. Or, after all the training the military had given him, he hadn’t tried to fight back until it was too late to be fixed.

So, really, he was prepared for anything besides for what actually did manage to work its way out of Carver’s mouth.

“Why would anyone let him get away with treating you like that? You deserved better than to be abandoned!” The fight dropped out of Carver all at once then with a near invisible tremor. “Must sound like all talk from me, though, considering I never—”

“That wasn’t your job,” Cullen cut in. “None of it was.”

“Doesn’t mean much coming from you.” Carver hissed out a curse when Cullen flinched back. “That’s not what I… You always went beyond what anyone else might have expected. It was like watching an actual damn knight in action, you know? Pretty sure half of the reason all of us followed you into that mess was just to try proving that we could be at least somewhat as...well... _ good _ .”

“Bet none of you would now,” Cullen replied, only to blink away his surprise when Carver barked out a laugh.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “You hit the ground running with all this recovery stuff. Took me far longer to… Well, the first step is admitting you have a problem, right? Can’t say I got to that all that gracefully.”

“Neither did I.” Cullen meant it to be a joke when he tapped at his ear, but his smile dropped into a sigh when Carver grimaced. “Sorry I didn’t try to come see you.”

“Well…” Carver didn’t pull back the arm he dropped around Cullen’s shoulders, even when the other man started just a touch under the weight. “No reason not to start now.” He chewed on the inside of his mouth for a moment or so before, “And just so you know? None of this changes the person I know you are.”

Cullen probably should have come up with a better response than knocking Carver in the side with his elbow, but, then again, sometimes a smile was all you needed to get the point across.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll include the talk here if people want, but for now I'm just glad that this chapter is finally somewhat presentable. 
> 
> P.S.: Looking up how to cheat at chess is a damn trip, let me tell you.


	20. Chapter 20

Of all his habits, Dorian’s proclivity towards drink had been the very last to draw attention back home. It was as crucial a component to each social interaction as the guests that, in hope, would boost the appeal of their host. Not to mention, as his mother would have been quick to point out, it was one of the few ways a person could dull the edge of company the like of Halward Pavus.

The south had brought in fresh alternatives to what he had once been accustomed to, in more ways than one. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to be  _ scolded _ for the regularity with which he restocked his collection, after all.

He had grown used to shaking off lectures, but it was the delivery of each fresh attempt—all soft words and gentle eyes—that pricked at him. If he had to arrange things in order to avoid it, coaxing it all to be viewed as a quirk more than anything else, than that was what had to be done.

Of course, all that had hinged for far too long on choosing with care when he actually indulged around others. His own efforts were unlikely to draw attention when stacked against the rest of their group at any gatherings.

Except he didn’t have the choice of actually digging into his stash at home anymore. Not that he was about to begrudge the reason for such a change. Despite Cullen’s earnest appeals, he refused to be that much of an ass; particularly when it involved someone who mattered so much already.

As it so happened, however, even his strategy of bouncing between apartments wasn’t a fitting enough smokescreen. It didn’t help, no doubt, that he had had to lean on Josephine and Leliana’s more instead of the alternative where Cullen could be found too more often than not.

At least he could count on Curtis’ aversion towards airing the details of his private life to keep Dorian’s imagination from receiving any more fuel than it already had.

Not that retaining composure as Leliana ran through her racket of conspiracy theories about Josephine’s boyfriend was any easier. There was only so long one could stay onboard when Leliana began to dissect the man’s career record all over again (it was best not to try working out how exactly she had gotten those).

“Are you certain this doesn’t have more to do with…” Dorian had inclined his head towards Josephine, who had been flitting about in the kitchen only to continually giggle into the phone.

Leliana’s face had clouded over all at once. “Said the pot to the kettle.” She had plucked the glass from his hand not long after which had fairly settled that.

It had been a slight blessing, truth be told, to have Cullen take his place in Leliana’s gambit when the next weekend approached. Even if it was with some trepidation that he approached a visit to Bull and Curtis’ apartment. He wasn’t about to toss two of his steadiest friendships away for issues all his own, however; not in the least when it involved his actual boss.

He should have caught on somewhat when his glass kept becoming “displaced” with increasing frequency as the night wore on, but alcohol had a way of dulling what might have bothered him otherwise. 

(As was rather the point.)

For the time being, though, all his focus was locked onto the steaming, fluffy eggs Cullen was already piling onto a plate for him. There was even a warm chuckle there to greet him when he wrinkled his nose over the glass of water.

“Hydration first,” Cullen said, “ _ then _ coffee.”

“Fine,” Dorian said, the roll of his eyes more for effect than anything else. He hummed, somewhat taken aback when the other man began to load up another plate. “Did you already go for your run with Cassandra?”

“I...uh...skipped it for today, actually,” Cullen replied. “Figured we could use the time to catch up.”

“Right,” Dorian drawled, “because that doesn’t sound the slightest bit ominous.” He let the fork drop away from his mouth when not a murmur came from across the table. “That  _ was _ meant to be a joke and yet…”

The eggs were starting to feel far less appealing in his stomach when Cullen actually grimaced. “I’ve been worried about you,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Me?” Dorian echoed, before he could help it. He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out where a slip might have been made. There hadn’t been much of a chance for time spent between them in the past week except for work.

... _ Wait _ .

“I see.” The kickback of regret that came with how Cullen winced at his bland tone was, for once, an irritation more than a warning. “Should I bother asking who tattled?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Cull ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the curls somewhat when Dorian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not… It’s not like that! They were just concerned. And, trust me, I know what a bad idea it can be not to respond to that.”

“Perhaps,” Dorian said, “but that was when…” A fresh bit of horror all but smacked him in the face when Cullen nodded. “Oh, no, I’m not about to sit here and let you accuse—”

“It’s not an addiction,” Cullen cut in. “I  _ know _ that, alright? But that doesn’t mean you don’t over indulge whenever you engage in it.”

Dorian tossed his fork down, giving up on his meal in favor of crossing his arms over his chest. “No more than anyone else,” he said.

“Not when there’s work on the horizon,” Cullen parried, “and, even then, not near blindingly each time.” He shook his head, exhausted all at once. “I’m not going to try dictating what you chose to do about it—that’s not my right—but I’m not about to help you ignore it either. Not when it’s something that could get you into some serious trouble.”

“Yes, yes.” Dorian’s mouth seemed to be running faster than his mind, but that was no excuse for what burst out next. “I don’t think it will take getting my head near caved in to realize I’m in danger, but, of course, thank you for your concern.”

The color fled out of Cullen’s face about as quickly as the bottom of Dorian’s stomach dropped out. He tried to find a way to fill the silence, but the other man was already stumbling to his feet.

“I should…” Cullen’s hands were rattling away at his sides. “I need to just… I’m sorry.” The last bit was more of a squeak than actual words, yet he was gone before Dorian could try to put things to right—without even pausing to put on proper clothes or shoes.

Cursing seemed like as good an idea as any, even if it did nothing to keep the image of Cullen’s wide, watery eyes from his mind.

*

Cullen didn’t even realize where his feet were carrying him until the door in front of him opened to the rich smell of coffee brewing, a whole breakfast spread out across the stove top (not unlike the one he had just fled from).

Curtis’ voice filtered out, groggy as ever come waking up, no matter the time. “Yeah, just give me a second to…” He came to a halt in the open space between the kitchen and living room, blinking somewhat rapidly. “Cullen! What are you doing here?”

Cullen knew it wasn’t meant to be accusatory, but he winced all the same. All at once, it felt entirely too foolish for him to be there, like a child wanting to whine about being teased. It wasn’t as if Dorian had said anything that wasn’t the truth, after all.

“Well come on then,  _ kadan _ .” Bull’s hand—warm and steady as ever—enclosed his shoulder, drawing him in. “Don’t leave our boy out in the cold.”

No matter how he grit his teeth against it, the touch, combined with that endearment—just the idea of  _ belonging _ —had him tearing up all over again. “Shit,” he mumbled, swiping at his eyes with his fist. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey now.” Bull’s fingers had shifted into Cullen’s hair now, not seeming to mind the way the curls snagged against his calluses. “Something tells me you shouldn’t be the one coming up with apologies.”

*

The next span of days came pretty damn close to a literal hell for Dorian.

Even if he had had some idea of what to say to put things to right, none of their fellow employees would leave him alone with Cullen long enough to try. Their home—and God didn’t that snag at the heart now—was just as out of the question as the other man seemed to have vacated it entirely.

Not that Dorian had to pause to consider where he might be when Cullen arrived at work with shirts loose around the shoulders or rolled up at the sleeves.

So, really, there wasn’t a chance at all for an invitation for one of their actual work get togethers to feel anything like anything less than cruel irony. Particularly when it was issued via Curtis, who waited until he was away from the others, cleaning off tables as they closed down for the day.

“Are you quite certain about that?” Dorian shrugged off the quick roll of Curtis’ eyes to forge ahead. “It’s at a bar, I expect, and I’m not to be trusted at such establishments any longer, or haven’t you heard. And that’s besides the fact that for one who claims to  _ care _ about Cullen—”

“That’s neither here nor there,” Curtis cut in. “I wouldn’t have made the arrangements unless  _ everyone _ was alright with it. Clearly.”

“Of course,” Dorian drawled. It didn’t make it any more fair that Cullen would place his safety in the hands of people who didn’t know how to read him at all. The man would agree to just about anything if he thought it would cause the least amount of fuss. “Will I actually be allowed to speak to that ‘everyone’ if there?”

“With permission from that person than why the hell not?” Curtis said. “I’m not anyone’s keeper.”

“Could have fooled me,” Dorian shot back.

For a person of such comparatively short stature, Curtis managed to appear quite formidable with only a quick upward roll of his shoulders, chin tipping up in the process. “Cullen is where he feels safe,” he said. “Something that, despite the circumstances, I imagine you’d agree he deserves.”

Dorian could feel the fight sagging out of him already, but he refused the take the easy route out and duck his head back into work. “So long as it stays that way,” he replied.

There was very little reason for the easy with which Curtis nodded to sting. Or, at least, not any one that Dorian wanted to examine any more than he already had.

*

Cullen was painfully aware that the get together, for all the facade of it being a makeshift “staff meeting”, had been cobbled together mostly for his own benefit. No matter how warm both Bull and Curtis had been in their acceptance of his extended presence, he couldn’t strictly call the experience comfortable. Before, with their own spaces established, there was no need to confront the parts of the relationship that he couldn’t be drawn into. Now it left an odd disconnect of sorts for when he couldn’t kiss Bull on his arrival back home like Curtis, but was still expected to be fucked into the bed at the end of the day.

It wasn’t as if the bereft expression he kept catching on Dorian’s face made things any easier, either. So, honestly, he didn’t try to hide his disappointment when the man wasn’t there to greet them at the bar.

The downward slide into an uncomfortable state of awkwardness, however, happened far more quickly than Cullen had expected.

He knew he hadn’t been forgotten by the majority of the table as drink after drink was ordered, but it certainly felt that way. The only ones whose attention he could claim in any solid way was Cassandra and Leliana, who had propped him up in a stool between the two of them as if to gain better results in coddling him together.

By a few hours in, Cullen could feel a headache pulsing behind his temples as much from Sera’s frequent shouts for more shots as Cassandra’s disgusted noises or Leliana’s gentle yet insistent lining of prodding. The glare of his cellphone screen in the otherwise dim lights of the bar didn’t make it any better, but that didn’t make him any less determined to fire off a quick text.

_ Can we talk? [Delivered 9:30 PM] _

That should have been it, of course. But, no matter how Cullen slid his phone back into his pocket to try to avoid staring at it, he still wound up tugging it out somewhere around where Sera began to drag an entirely too tipsy Josephine up for karaoke. He didn’t want to appear a fool, even less like a desperate one, but this was Dorian. Even if things were at their worst the man wouldn’t ignore him on purpose, surely.

That was a shrinking certainty, however, as each passed without any sign of being read.

_ Please? Not angry, promise. [Delivered 10:45 PM] _

_ Just let me know you’re alight when you get the chance? [Delivered 12:00 AM] _

He received an arched brow from Leliana at how quickly he snatched the phone back from her approaching fingers, but she didn’t try to stop him from hopping down from the stool. “I’m going to call it a night,” he said.

“On your own?” Cassandra asked.

“It will be good for me, I think.” Cullen shook his head, offering up a smile that he hoped wasn’t too weak at the skeptical look Cassandra leveled at him. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

“Alright,” Leliana acquiesced, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Do you have what you need to get into the apartment?”

“Into my own, definitely.” Cullen almost laughed at how quick the two women were to exchange glances at that. He hoped he wasn’t imagining the relief that shone there at least. “See you come Monday?”

“As prompt as ever,” Cassandra said. “Now off you go.”

The brisk autumn wind swept up to knock him in the face all but the moment he pushed the heavy door open, yet, against the smothering heat of the bar, it was almost a relief. 

He didn’t bother to check his phone throughout the fairly brief stroll it took to get back to Skyhold Apartments. It wasn’t his place to try to bully Dorian into speaking to him, after all. Particularly not when he had been the one to run out on any such efforts in the first place. With any luck, Dorian would still be there in the apartment come tomorrow, which would put a fresh start on all of it (or so Cullen hoped).

After getting such a fixed plan in place, it drew him up short to find his roommate sprawled out in front of the door. Even more so when it took only a few steps for his nose to be scrunching up instinctively against the overwhelming scent of alcohol. 

“Dorian? What are you—”

“You.” Dorian’s eyes narrowed, mouth pursing even as Cullen’s brow made an effort to hit his hairline. “You’re supposed to be inside by now.” He shook his head. “All these late nights will give you wrinkles, you know, and then where will you be.”

Cullen wheezed out a hint of a laugh despite himself, shaking his head when Dorian blinked glassily at him. “Still stuck with you, I imagine.” 

Or hope, to be more honest.

He dipped down to hoist Dorian to his feet, no matter how the other man whined, balancing Dorian with an arm around his shoulders as he worked on getting the door open.

“No, no.” The shake of Dorian’s head was almost frantic, scrambling to get a set hold on the doorframe even as Cullen tried to lead him in. “I’m not supposed to come in after I get this far gone. There are rules, I remember.”

“Since when do you care about rules?” Cullen chuckled.

Dorian went so quiet then that he actually felt a bit alarmed, but when he glanced over at the other man it was to find that Dorian’s eyes had gone softer than he had ever seen them. “I do when they come to you,” he murmured.

Cullen was still trying to process all of what that combined into when a mouth pressed over his own, leaving him too taken aback to do much of anything. 

There wasn’t any good reason for such a thing to affect him so strongly, leaving him unable—or unwilling—to pull away. He had been kissed as early as this morning, after all. But each of those had been given with a clear direction while the slight press of Dorian’s tongue against his lips seemed more for the shudder of pleasure it runs through him than anything Dorian actually wants himself.

“God.” Dorian flopped his head onto Cullen’s shoulder, so that if the man weren’t placed by his good ear, Cullen doubted he would be able to make out the next words at all. “I won’t remember this come morning, I believe.”

“Do you want to?” Cullen asked, unable to resist it.

Dorian lifted his head, fingers curling around Cullen’s bicep. “Of course I do,” he said. “How could I not?”

Except that, of course, is the real issue. 

Cullen has an entire list of reasons why Dorian shouldn’t have to be made to remember. It was just a kiss; something Dorian would surely regret if in his right mind. No one wanted to be shackled to a man like Cullen, after all—weren’t Bull and Curtis proof enough of just that? And particularly not when it was a man like Dorian, graceful and quick in all ways, while Cullen had to struggle for each word, still grasping for a chance at normalcy even after all this time.

Dorian didn’t seem too perturbed through not having an answer to his question, although he wasn’t much inclined to untangle from Cullen either once the man finally got him to bed. “I just got you back,” he mumbled, in a way that made Cullen’s next breath snag in his throat.

It’s a fool’s move, no doubt, but Cullen wasn't much in the mood to care when he tumbled into bed alongside Dorian. The little wispy giggle the other man let out before curling around him more than made up for it.

Let the rest come with the morning.

*

Dorian woke up in increments when he would rather not wake up at all. Or at least not to the throbbing that threatened to overwhelm his entire mind, stomach sloshing agitatedly whenever he tries to move so much as an inch.

Not that he can find much room to shift in at all with another body so near to his own.

He’s wary to open his eyes more at that than anything else. It wasn’t difficult to imagine what sort of man he must have brought home, after all. There would be a man with either the curls or the eyes in his bed, a pale imitation of the real thing.

The real thing that was apparently right in his damn bed, of all places, curling a loose arm around him even as he flexed the other that was pillowed under Dorian’s head.

“Pretty sure you put my arm to sleep.” Cullen yelped, however, outright when Dorian nearly knocked himself out bed with the haste to scramble away. “Oi! None of that! You’re going to stay here while I find you some water. Maybe food if you can—”

“I’ll take the lecture first actually.” Dorian narrowed his eyes, fighting back the warmth that threatened to overwhelm him when Cullen blinked near drowsily still at him. “Don’t pretend that you don’t have one already in the works.”

Cullen sighed, raising his spare hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I suppose so,” he admitted. He didn’t pay any heed to the way Dorian stiffened at that, only brushing his knuckles over Dorian’s cheek. 

It really should have bothered Dorian far more that the rough skin there kept catching against his own, kept smooth with careful dedication. There was no need for him to give himself away with a barely suppressed shiver. That was just outright rude.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t worried for you,” Cullen said. “I’m familiar with all the modes of escapism, trust me, Dorian. There’s no reason not to drink socially or to cut it off altogether. Just...try to pace yourself? There’s no need to drink yourself to this point each time. Not… Not unless you’re hurting more than I realized.”

Dorian sucked in a sharp breath at how near guilt struck Cullen appeared at that. “It’s not your job to take care of me,” he warned. 

“No more than it’s yours to take care of me,” Cullen said. “But when you care about someone—”

“You want to make sure they’re safe.” Dorian frowned at Cullen’s brightening expression more out of show than anything else. It wouldn’t do to give up ground too easily. “Sitting around listening to my woes will turn incredibly boring, I assure you.”

“Nope.” Cullen grinned, letting his mouth pop around the word as if just to make Dorian scowl at him. “How can I do any less for you than what you’ve already done for me?”

Dorian didn’t have any sort of fitting answer to that, so he let Cullen push out of bed without much protest other than to curl up proper in an effort to assuage his stomach against the shifting of the bed. He was nearly moved to laughter to find Cullen still hovering there, however.

“I can handle food,” he said, “so long as you remember to make some for yourself too.”

“Oh, yes, that’s not…” Cullen shifted from one foot to the other. “How much do you remember from last night?”

Dorian’s brow knotted together at the unexpected question, struggling to piece together what glimpses he still had from last night. There was a reason he had expected to wake up with a partner of some sort in bed, he knew that, but after an effort to strain at gave him little more than a warm press of bodies he gave up.

“Not much.” He used what energy he still had to waggle his eyebrows when Cullen’s face remained locked between anxiety and nerves. “Did I miss any scandalous details?”

Cullen’s laughter came out far more worn than Dorian would have liked, but at least the man’s brow cleared. “No, not at all.” He smoothed his hand through Dorian’s hair, tucking the blankets back in around him. “I’ll go put in an effort on that food, depending on what you’ve left me in the fridge.”

Despite how foul he felt overall, Dorian still found himself smiling, following the snatches of humming he could hear as Cullen made his way through the kitchen.

Things had been set to right at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Lord, I didn't expect to sit on this chapter for as long as I did at all. It was determined to protest to even the slightest bit of chipping away at it then tumbled all out in almost a single go ages later. Welcome to the occasional joys of being a writer, I suppose.
> 
> I'm not sure if everyone will like the content that's here, but it lead to a scene I didn't even think was going to have a chance to be canon actually getting its chance (feel to ask which, although it might be obvious). The original parts of this scene were far more dramatic to boot, so I'm happy where things rest now :D


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: use of safe words, very light insistence of [sub drop](https://jenniferbene.com/2016/12/ask-me-anything-what-is-sub-drop/)

In a perfect world, the kiss would have been able to count for as little as Cullen tried convincing himself it did. Except, of course, willing something to be true only had it stick in your mind all the more. It was still difficult to tell whether or not it was for the best that he had eliminated any chance of pushing away from it altogether.

He hadn’t expected the ache that had come with how Curtis and Bull accepted him putting any engagements with them on hold for now, yet there was little else to do save shrug it off. Something that was a good bit easier to do with Dorian so openly back in his life.

It was more than nice, honestly, to have his roommate in more nights than not. Even if, on occasion, it lead to their apartment being more occupied than he would ever expected (or thought he could so freely enjoy). There were Cutthroat Kitchen binges where Josephine and Felix proved to be far more vicious than anyone else would have expected—save for the far too gleeful faces of Carver and Leliana, that was. Dorian always put up a fuss over the games that Cassandra or Carver would sometimes insist on putting on, but he never truly seemed angered by it. Perhaps since Cassandra always allowed him to watch her react in almost perfect harmony with Gordon Ramsay on one of his numerous shows any other time.

Still, Cullen’s favorites remained those when it was just the two of them. Either with him fussing about in the kitchen while Dorian ran through seemingly impossible concepts of astrophysics or caving to Dorian’s insistence that work had run them too ragged for anything other than takeout.

Cullen might press a little closer into Dorian’s space than he probably should on those nights—a foot pressed to the other man’s under the table or leaning more against Dorian than their couch allowed for—but the man never complained or tried to push him away. It was more than enough to allow for Cullen to bury any worries under an assortment of excuses until a Friday rolled around that had Bull lingering around the counter just as everyone else was starting to edge around him to close down.

“If you’re hoping for a quick shot then you’re out of luck,” Cullen said. “I think Dorian might actually kill me if I start the machine up after he’s cleaned it.”

“Nah,” Bull replied. “Think he’s exhausted that angle by now.” He didn’t leave much of a chance for Cullen to process what _that_ was supposed to mean, hand closing over Cullen’s wrist to keep him in place. It left a shiver of exactly the wrong sort crawling up Cullen’s spine, which only hit more awkwardly when he had been expecting to find it a comfort. “Looks like he’s doing pretty good right now too.”

“You only see him at work.” Cullen twitched his hand under Bull’s hold, biting back the frustration that rose when the man’s grip only tightened. “He’s _always_ good at work.”

“Maybe so,” Bull said, “but you wouldn’t look so relaxed if it was only here.” There was almost a tinge of exasperation to his sigh, yet he only circled the inside of Cullen’s wrist with his thumb once before letting go. “He doesn’t need a minder, you know.”

Cullen’s shoulders were locking together before he could help it. “That’s not—” He snapped his mouth shut around the rest at the slow rise of Bull’s eyebrows, knowing he had risen to the other man’s play without even meaning to. “I… I don’t need one either, you know.”

“Course not.” Bull’s tone remained as easy as ever. “That isn’t what this is about.”

“What then?” Cullen rubbed at the back of his neck, far too aware that, no matter what pretence of cleaning, everyone was eyeing the two of them.

“Oh, you know,” Bull said, “haven’t been able to see you in awhile. Got a little worried.”

“There’s no need to be,” Cullen said. “I was just…” He caught a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye, pretending not to notice how Dorian jerked away to fiddle with the chairs at being caught staring.

“Ah. Right.” Bull reached out to smooth out the furrow that gathered on Cullen’s brow. “Curtis was worried about that.”

“What?” Cullen asked.

“It’s not meant to…” Bull shook his head, tongue clucking against the roof of his mouth when Cullen’s arms crossed over his chest. “Thought you might be getting possessive is all.”

Cullen wasn’t entirely sure when all the wind had whistled out of his lungs, yet he found it far more painful than expected to swallow around the knot in his throat. “I… That’s not…” He cleared his throat, bracing his hands against the counter when Dorian almost flickered to his side. “I can head over tonight if you’re really so concerned.”

“Hey now, that’s not—”

“Are you taking Cullen home?” He hadn’t even been able to catch the typical click of Josephine’s shoes as she drew close. There was only a tinge of worry sharpening the rest of her otherwise gentle expression. “He deserves a bit of rest, to be honest.”

“I can still help out,” Cullen insisted. “I don’t even let you pay me for this part.”

“As if that makes it all better!” Josephine’s fingers were a warm, careful press on his cheek, making it hard to keep his frown. “You do so much for everyone else as it is. A moment’s rest will benefit you more than you think.”

The solid weight that settled into Cullen’s gut as he nodded should have been more of a warning sign. But, truth be told, there weren’t many things that a smile sent over from Dorian couldn’t make feel right.

*

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise for Cullen to have Curtis fold around him once he crossed the threshold of the apartment, mouth closing over his. But, as Bull pressed up against his back to lock him in, his heart rate spiked in a way that had nothing to do with anticipation.

That wasn’t something that would last, though. Sticking away for so long had just left everything a little off-center. It would adjust back once surrounded by the familiarities of the bedroom.

Or, at least, it would once he stopped tracking what touches he did and didn’t receive. Not the batting away of his own hands—no matter how casual—made that any easier. It was almost a relief to have his hands pinned above his head, if only to have the choice made for him.

At least until the rope looped around his wrists.

“What…?” It tended to take a bit more to work up to this bit of play. Anything that could make Cullen feel more properly grounded into that moment of safety.

The kiss Bull pressed to the corner of his mouth was gentle enough, though, even with Curtis’ teeth scraping up along the curve of his ear. It was a promise of better things to come if he could just hold out long enough.

Except it was difficult to hold onto that when time seemed to stretch out more than normal. He couldn’t actually call what he received absent, yet it all rested the same when it never quite hit was actually _needed_. Perhaps all the more because he kept glancing up to find the other two responding to one another so well.

But that was only to be expected. He was the interloper here, after all.

Cullen shut his eyes to push the thoughts away, although he barely had time before fingers playing with the button of his jeans had him jerking. “Wait, that’s…” The chuckle that rolled out of Bull scraped against his ears. At least Curtis’ hands stopped moving when Cullen began to buck in earnest. “No, that isn’t...” He shuddered against the hand that spread out over his stomach.

“Cullen, what’s the—”

“ _Red_.” It tore out with far more force than Cullen intended, leaving his throat ragged, but the weight left his body all at once. Fortunate enough that Bull knew what he was doing with this too as the the rope only took a few tugs to come loose and free.

He tried to push up onto his elbows only to fall back flat onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling as he realized, somewhat distantly, how bad he was shaking. The way the silence stretched made him want to take it all back; shame churning in his gut.

“I should…” He swallowed, dragging himself up into a sitting position. Just because he ducked away from the heavy, remorseful expressions on the faces of the other men didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the weight of them on his shoulders. “I’ll leave then.”

“That’s not…” Curtis folded in on himself, however, when Cullen shied away from his touch. At least Bull was there to wind an arm around him. It was what was really needed, after all (not someone who only ever made things worse).

“It’s okay,” Cullen said, “I’ll handle it.”

He might have been able to hide from the falsity of that for a bit longer, if he hadn’t stumbled into the apartment—clinging to his shirt and jacket instead of actually putting them on—to almost run directly into his roommate.

“Oh!” It was all but impossible for Dorian _not_ to look beautiful, but polished like this he outright gleamed. The deep blue of the turtleneck drew out his coloring while the collar of the peacoat hit at his dramatic, sweeping edges of his cheekbones. Best not to focus on how tight his dark jeans were, although any thoughts towards that direction seized at Cullen like broken glass. “ _Oh_.”

Cullen blinked somewhat rapidly when Dorian clasped him by the shoulders, marching him off towards his bedroom. He found the corners of his mouth twisting upwards in amusement despite himself when the other man attacked his closet.

“I’m not here to spoil your evening,” he said.

Dorian glanced back over his shoulder with a surprisingly exasperated expression. “Please,” he replied, “as if you ever could.”

“You’re wearing the _expensive_ cologne,” Cullen countered.

“Are you suggesting I have another kind? Ah!” Dorian waited until Cullen acquiesced to raising his arms with a roll of his eyes to tug the crimson sweater over his head, letting the other clothes tumble to the floor. “Now just to find your boots. You tend to leave them by the door, yes?”

“Dorian?” Cullen caught the man by the arm when he refused to slow down and, even then, he wound having a tongue clucked at him. “I’m not about to have you rearrange your whole night over—”

“Nonsense,” Dorian said. “It’s always better with you.” He reached out to snag Cullen’s hand as it dropped away from his arm to squeeze it. Either he didn’t catch how it trembled in his grasp or simply knew it was better to ignore it.

“Smoothtalker,” Cullen murmured, shaking his head.

Dorian’s face lit up when he grinned. “Only in the best of ways,” he said. “Truly!”

*

It took a few twists through the various side alleys of Haven—more than a town towards the smaller side should seemingly have—for Dorian to pull them out to their destination. By that time, Cullen was entirely sure that his eyebrows had escaped somewhere into his hairline.

“A pub?” he said.

“Yes!” Dorian shook his head when Cullen’s lips pressed thin. “Some people head out to these places for things other than drinks, you know.”

“I… I do know.” Cullen bit down on the inside of his mouth, hands curling to fists in the pockets of his jacket. “And I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t drink. Just that it would be better not to… Only a few maybe? Even if I can’t…”

_Another thing you’ve ruined. Well done._

Cullen jerked a little when Dorian knocked his shoulder gently to his, although the other man’s smile never faltered. “Never fear,” he said. “I didn’t doubt your honor for a moment. Besides, I’d prefer to enjoy your company with a clear head than without.”

“Thank you…?” Cullen replied.

(At least it was enough to make Dorian laugh.)

He cocked his head to the side, however, after being bundled inside to discover a stylized bird etched all in red on the wall behind the bar.

“Dorian, did you actually—”

“Cullen?” Carver hissed out a curse when he managed to knock into the side of the bar with his hip, dashing beer across his fingers in the process.

Cullen, catching the noise swelling even now around them, lifted his hands up. “Sorry, sorry,” he signed. “Half expected you to go for sir.”

Carver rolled his eyes before casting a sign that had Cullen nearly doubling over in renewed laughter. It was made even harder to stay upright when Dorian, after casting a puzzled glanced between the two of them went, “What’s so… Didn’t he just say ‘okay’?”

“I’d have thought you’d learn the dirty words first,” Cullen said. He hardly expected Dorian to lean up into his space then, smile at full force.

“Oh, I did learn _some_ , I assure you.”

Cullen would have been far more spooked by the arm that wove its way between the two of them if his cheeks weren’t already burning.

“Alright, that’s quite enough you two.” Felix cut Dorian’s squawking off with a firm glance that had the other man crossing his arms over his chest instead. “I didn’t expect to see you two here tonight.”

“Yes, well,” Dorian said, “we happen to be in the need of Ferelden comfort food. And, as I remember, no one does it better than your lover boy’s tavern.”

Felix dragged a hand over his face. “I’m making you tip extra,” he said. “Just for that.”

“Not a chance,” Dorian said. “Unless you want to actually pay for your next order at the bakery.”

Felix paused in grabbing their menus, mouth pursed. “Fine,” he decided. “I can work with that.”

“I feel like I just witnessed a backroom dealing,” Cullen said.

“Been to a few of those.” Felix patted the rounded table, tucked into a brightly lit corner, that he had lead them to. “Normally have a bit more bloodshed.”

“Remind me never to visit Tevinter,” Cullen muttered.

“Now, now,” Dorian replied, “you haven’t been to Orlais either.”

Cullen held up his hands. “Just don’t leave me to find you and Leliana in the midst of some plot,” he said.

“Oh, no more than usual.” Dorian patted Cullen’s elbow when Felix dashed off without taking their orders. “Just trust him. With Carver’s help whatever comes out is bound to be good.” He tossed his jacket down into the booth. “Now why don’t you tell me what exactly got Cassandra in such a huff this morning?”

Cullen wasn’t so far gone as to not recognize a play at distraction when he saw it. But with Dorian’s face full of such open warmth—offering all that he didn’t want to admit he needed—it was difficult to kick up a fuss. “Well, if someone hadn’t let Sera loose in the kitchen today…”

*

Eventually Cullen gave up on trying to track how much time had passed. It was much easier to get lost in the steady cadence of Dorian’s voice, letting one thread of conversation be quickly threaded through into another.

Felix actually seemed far more amused than exasperated by the point that he finally stopped by to say that the tavern was closing. Something that might have felt more embarrassing if Dorian hadn’t kept his arm around Cullen’s waist the whole time they wandered home.

Cullen shook his head when they stumbled into Skyhold apartments at last. “You didn’t even have anything to drink,” he said.

Dorian only turned to press his chuckle into Cullen’s shoulder. “A man can’t be drunk on good company?” he asked. “Preposterous!”

“Big words from someone who…” Cullen’s words caught harshly in his throat, good mood slipping away like snow caught on a stove when he caught who was sitting on the stairs.

“Well then.” Bull pushed up from where he had been sitting, stretching instead of acknowledging Dorian’s glower. “Sent Curtis up when he started to drift off. But it looks like you’ve got the matter in hand, Pavus.”

Cullen started a little at the hand that pressed tight against his side.

“That I do,” Dorian said. “We’ll see you tomorrow, though, just to see it sorted.”

“Will do.” Cullen refused to twist away from the heavy weight of Bull’s gaze as it drifted between Dorian and him, taking in every detail. It was something of a relief to have the other man turned to head up the stairs. “I’ll give you a chance to rest.”

Cullen didn’t even catch the spike to his breathing until Dorian pulled back enough to stare up at him properly.

“You have _nothing_ to feel ashamed of,” he said. “Not with this.”

“But you don’t even know what happened,” Cullen protested.

“Don’t need to.” Dorian rolled his shoulders up into a shrug, face still surprisingly gentle. “I’ll never protest you actually seeing to your own care.”

Cullen still couldn’t be entirely certain if it could all be that simple, but when Dorian’s hand closed around his again it felt like it might be possible. Or, at the very least, something that would be simpler in the wake of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, I didn't intend for this to take so long. Originally I wanted to get this out around the holidays, but working in finances ensures that December and the early part of January are _hell_ months at work.
> 
> On a funnier note---Carver totally uses the sign of "asshole" at Cullen.


	22. Chapter 22

It was difficult to say what it said about the current state of things that, come morning, Dorian had actually offered to accompany Cullen down to Curtis and Bull’s apartment. The worried expression hadn’t waned any after Cullen had shaken his head, but the other man hadn’t pressed the issue either. 

There was even the promise of breakfast once he got back (and, therefore, managed to ease the knot his stomach had settled into). Whether that meant he would come back to a ringing smoke detector was still up for debate, but, honestly, it was the earnest thought of it that counted more than anything.

Even more so once he found himself settled into an armchair, facing down Bull and Curtis on the couch. As if either of them thought drawing too close would make him shatter all over again.

“I…” Cullen swallowed hard when Curtis’ head snapped towards him. There were bags under those gray-hazel eyes that only he could have brought about. “I overreacted yesterday. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not just on you.” Curtis’ lips thinned out when Cullen’s brow furrowed. “We’re the ones that misread what you needed.” His voice cracked around the words in a way Cullen had never heard before. “What I  _ don’t _ get is why you wouldn’t give us a chance to help. We’ve done it before.”

Any of the excuses that rose up—more half-hearted than not—dried up at the memory of the silent accusation in Bull’s eyes last night. Either way, wasn’t as if he hadn’t already done enough of dodging the truth with those he cared about for an entire lifetime.

“And I was grateful for it,” Cullen said. “Always have been for what you’ve given me. But there are some things that I...that I can’t expect you to give.”

“It can’t be that bad.” Curtis frowned at the touch of Bull’s hand on his knee, only for his eyes to widen a moment later. “ _ Oh _ .” He cleared his throat. “Is it bad to say I’m flattered?”

Cullen’s own weak laughter almost got swallowed up in Bull’s booming one. “Probably,  _ kadan _ ,” he said.

“Fine then.” Curtis loosened at last, flopping back against the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. “In that case, I’m entirely offended.”

“Are you?” Cullen dug his fingers into the leather of the armchair, determined not to duck away from Curtis’ arched brow. “I would understand if you were upset in truth. Either of you.”

“Hey now,” Bull said. “It isn’t our place to dictate what you’re willing to give. Both of us knew that getting into this.”

“Just watch out for him playing matchmaker,” Curtis chimed in, chuckling at the swat Bull landed on his arm.

“Should be easy enough when there’s no one to match me with.” Cullen cocked his head at the almost sly glance exchanged between Curtis and Bull. “What are you—”

There were three solid raps on the door before it was flung open, Dorian pressing a hand over his eyes that dropped once he caught onto the relative silence in the room. “Oh, good,” he said, “I’m spared coming in on  _ that _ at least.”

“Uh-huh,” Curtis remarked, dryily. “Now where’s your explanation, Pavus? It better be a good one.”

“Hopefully not something catching fire?” Cullen held up his hands when Curtis blinked at him, somewhat sheepish. “Sometimes it’s more of a likelihood than it should be.”

“First of all,” Dorian said, jabbing a finger in Cullen’s direction, “ _ rude _ . And, second of all, no, it’s...it’s Josephine.”

*

From all that had been described, Cullen knew that none of them were about to walk in on anything good. Not that that was enough to keep his heart from crumbling at being faced with Josephine’s reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks once getting into their apartment.

“Oh, Josie…” Curtis wasn’t a tactile person, even with those close to him, so how he voiced not a single complaint to Josephine tucking in along his side on the couch said more than it should. “Is it really that bad?”

“I should say so,” Leliana replied. “Unless you have some magic way to spin this.”

“Still not entirely sure what this  _ is _ .” Cullen settled on the arm of the couch, soothing a hand over Josephine’s back while she dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief Bull had seemingly pulled out of nowhere. “You said he lied but about—”

“About  _ everything _ ,” Leliana cut in. “Blackwall is a real person, apparently. It’s just not the man Josephine has been with. That would be Thom Rainer, who the actual Blackwall apparently recruited out of prison.”

“O—Okay.” Cullen swallowed hard, determined not to quake under Leliana’s glare. “That’s...not good. But it’s not that unusual for the Wardens to do that from time to time. Maybe he was just worried what you’d think of him.”

“It’s more than that.” Josephine was knotting the handkerchief together between her fingers. “He used to be paramilitary of a sort, I think? Some Orlesian politician hired him to get dirt on another…”

“More common than it should be,” Leliana said, “but for one side to actually sanction the use of force is entirely without tact.”

“Did someone get hurt?” Cullen would have cursed his own bluntness—mouth moving faster than his mind as usual—but at least Curtis was there to soothe away Josephine’s rising hiccups.

Leliana sighed. “To do him credit,” she said, “Thom never  _ meant _ to use the permission. But he was the only one with an actual weapon. And when the owner of the house spooked them he reacted...apparently without thinking.”

“The shot went wide,” Bull said. “No one would do that intentionally well on a stealth mission.”

“Fair enough.” Even Leliana’s grudging expression had to lighten somewhat as she went on. “And he took the fall for his men. Let all of the blame fall on him so they could get off with lighter sentences.” She rolled her eyes when she noticed the lift to Cullen’s eyebrows. “What? An honor like that can be respected.”

“The real Blackwall would have shared your beliefs, I think,” Cullen said. “Wardens care more about deeds than background.”

“It’s where you would have met him.” Josephine nodded when Cullen’s head whipped towards her. “Thom admitted that Blackwall introduced you shortly before deployment...before the officer’s death.”

“Oh.” Cullen drummed his fingers against his knee. “But he still told you? He still did the right thing?”

“Far too late,” Leliana snorted.

“Not for us to decide.” Cullen could feel the heat of Leliana’s gaze on his neck when he turned to ease one of Josephine’s hands away from the handkerchief. “What did he tell you?” He didn’t want to admit that a part of him could see the attractiveness of it; sliding into another person’s life—a  _ better _ persons’—just to feel safe. But that wasn’t any way to grow either. Perhaps Blackwall— _ Thom _ —had finally realized that.

“That he cared about me too much to keep lying,” Josephine said. “That… That he wanted to become the man I loved in truth, someone that I could truly be proud of.”

“Well there’s that, at least,” Dorian said, “but he does know you’re under no obligation to, doesn’t he?”

“I… I really think he does.” Josephine swallowed hard, something approaching a smile flitting across her face. “But I do know that I still love him, despite it all. Isn’t that wrong?”

“No.” Cullen tired to appear more certain than he felt when Josephine looked up at him. “There’s no harm in giving you both some time to work things out, though. Let him work towards getting better while you work through all this revelation brought. Then you can see whether or not a relationship with...well, Thom, is something you want.” He wasn’t able to keep from looking around the room when the silence dragged on. “It seemed like a good idea?”

“Because it is.” Josephine squeezed the hand he still had in his own, resting her head against his knee for a moment. “Thank you, Cullen.”

(And, to be honest, Leliana’s smile meant just as much)

*

The breakfast had long since gone cold by the time they got back upstairs, although Dorian certainly wasn’t above showing him how unburnt the omelette was before tossing it into the trash.

“You know,” he said, “you’re quite good at these kind of things.”

“Making appericative noises for you, you mean?” Cullen could already feel his ears starting to burn when Dorian only blinked at him. “Um...that isn’t…”

“Not what I meant either,” Dorian said, bumping his hip against Cullen’s on his way to snag the phone, “but, rest assured, it’s always been appreciated. I just hope that… Well, alright, that one day someone will be able to give you half of the good you give to others.”

“I already do.” Cullen’s smile was an easy one. “I’ve got you.” He reached over when Dorian made a somewhat strangled sound, worry only growing more when the other man ducked away from him. “Did I…”

“No, no, it’s nothing,” Dorian insisted. “I’ll just order our usual, yes? So long as you’re already with pizza. Something tells me we’ll all need comfort food after a day like today.”

Cullen only nodded, not entirely sure that it wasn’t worth the risk to find out just what secret everyone seemed to be keeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally not on purpose Valentine's update! Whooo?
> 
> Sorry for bit of drama, but, whoa, was that a plot thread that needed wrapping up. And, well, now we're on the fast train out of pining land, hopefully >:D


	23. Chapter 23

Dorian was, for better or worse, the veteran of enough falling outs to know that the aftermaths always tended to be similar. It was what had him staring down pints of ice cream on a Friday evening in a fairly desperate effort to remember which Cullen always claimed he couldn’t indulge in. He had already managed to make Cullen cave to picking up an order of Chinese food on his own way home; not above softening his eyes just the right amount to do so.

Combined with some ridiculous television, not to mention a gentle shoulder, and it should do wonders. At least better than Dorian’s usual remedy of emptying as many bottles of wine as it felt to feel appropriately numb.

Even if alcohol of any sort were still an option for his roommate, Dorian couldn’t exactly say for sure whether he trusted himself to be drunk around Cullen. He could only imagine what an impression he must have made the last time.

The freezer door actually opening before him startled him about as much as the lurch of his body did. It was a bit hard to do anything other than sigh when a burst of soft laughter echoed from his side.

“Um, sorry.” Even if Dorian were inclined to be upset, it would have been difficult to remain so when the other man managed to look so contrite while cradling an ice cream pint. The fine figure he cut—warm brown eyes and blonde hair along a sharp jaw—certainly helped even if he seemed almost as faded as the scrubs he wore.

Although to be fair, Dorian wasn’t in any position to cast stones with the bags sure to be layering up under his eyes. Something that the approaching cumulation of his master’s was meant to make worth it (hopefully).

“Not at all,” Dorian said. “I would have had to make a decision sooner or later.” He plucked the most promising pint out of the freezer. It would be difficult to screw up with ice cream, after all. “It’s been a bit of a week, is all.”

There was that laugh again, coupled with a wry curve to the man’s mouth. “I can relate.” He shifted to toss the pint into the basket balanced in the crook of his arm so he could offer a proper wave. It might have come with something further for all Dorian knew. The movement made it all too hard not to have the gaze drawn to the name-tag clipped to the man’s scrubs, which... _well_.

“You’re Anders.” It was an effort on Dorian’s part not to grimace when the man’s eyebrows shot up. “I might have heard of…”

“Oh!” Anders cut in. “The clinic?” There was little else for Dorian to do other than nod along, which at least earned him a grin. The other man seemed in desperate need of it.

Besides, as it turned out, it was much easier to simply let Anders fill in the blanks. Actual life enthused the man’s face as he babbled on all the way up to the checkout line. Not that Dorian much minded.

The clinic was one of those community centered, funded types; actually properly determined to push out the noble ideals it promised. Exactly the sort of place Rilienus would have begged for a chance to volunteer at back in the day.

It was odd, in its own way, for Dorian to dare to linger on that with only the sense of prodding at a bruise to punish him. Not an entirely unwelcome realization, though.

And, if Anders missed the cashier giving him a rather obvious discount, then Dorian was hardly about to point it out. The thumbs up from the girl at the register behind Anders’ back only made it more fun.

“Ah, this is me then.” Anders rocked on his heels next to a car that looked almost as worn out as he did. By now Dorian was starting to find it somewhat endearing. “Thanks for listening to me… Well, it couldn’t have been the most fun in the world.”

“Nonsense,” Dorian said. “Always a comfort there’s still someone out there fighting the good fight, as they call it.”

“Do they now?” Anders chuckled. “Good to know. And...thank you.”

“For providing the comfort of my presence? You’re welcome, of course.” Dorian allowed himself a small smile when Anders shook his head, laugh growing again. “Now do try to take care of yourself. I imagine there has to be someone out there worried about what state you might be in.”

One which was, Dorian was quite sure, he counted as a roommate.

*

Only Cullen could look guilty for eating the takeout he had chipped in on, Dorian decided.

“I didn’t touch your lo mein,” he insisted, shuffling over to make room on the couch. He even left enough room for Dorian to flop down as dramatically as he pleased, which was sweet in their own odd way. “Took you a bit, though. Was worried it’d get cold.”

“That would hardly take away the flavor.” Dorian reached for the carton Cullen offered, piling up one of the spare plates on the coffee table. He wasn’t above shaking his head when he caught sight of the television screen, though. “How is it that we always wind up watching shows with food in them?”

“Because they’re fun?” Cullen offered. Admittedly a hard claim to counter when Alton John was wrangling a chef into cooking with a microwave. Entertaining enough, certainly, that it almost had him missing the spark of amusement in Cullen’s eyes. “Or, if you really want, we could see if—”

“There will be no mocking of the bridal shows,” Dorian cut in. “Not when you like them as much as I do. Very unstereotypical of you, really.”

Cullen was already rolling his eyes. “I promise to find a game on to make you suffer through next time.” He prodded at one of the dumpling with his fork before popping it up into his mouth. “I just like seeing them have their chance to be happy.”

“Oh.” Dorian coughed, trying very hard not to inhale a whole mouthful of soy sauce from the noodles when Cullen’s face dropped all at once. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize the effort you’re going through.” Cullen rolled the handle of his fork between his fingers, lips pressed thin. “Even I’m not enough of an idiot for—”

Dorian aimed an elbow into Cullen’s side, bringing an end to that nasty line of thought with a yelp. “None of that,” he said. “You’re too wonderful a man to be brought low by this.”

“That’s not the…” Cullen frowned, nudging away Dorian’s return elbow with his own. “Look, there are...parts of it that I miss. But mostly it’s just… I just don’t get why they’re _avoiding_ me now.”

“If it’s any comfort,” Dorian said, “I don’t think that’s necessarily their plan? Anyone would expect you to need some space to reorient yourself.”

“And if I don’t need as much?” Cullen asked. “Is that...bad?”

“Goodness no,” Dorian replied, “but no need not to take advantage of it.”

“Right.” At least Cullen’s smile managed to be as solid as it ever was. “Does that mean you caught Sera trying to make my coffee order today?”

“What?” Dorian’s scandalized tone wasn’t as unfeigned as it probably should be. “I knew the machines were out of order!”

“Don’t scold her too much,” Cullen said. “She was just trying to be nice. Even if she did put too much honey in.”

Dorian was pulling a face before he could help it. “Hasn’t she seen me make your order enough times?” he said.

“You change that order almost daily,” Cullen replied. “Not to mention, your hands move a bit too fast for us lowly mortals.”

“There’s a compliment _somewhere_ in there, I’m sure of it.” Dorian snagged the remote off Cullen’s thigh, trying not to notice how much wider the spread of them had become. A regular diet interspersed by a plethora of baked goods to taste had served the man entirely too well. “Now ready to place bets on who gets through this madcap challenge alive? Winner gets the first scoop of ice cream.”

*

There was a bit of novelty in coming to with the only pain being the soreness in his neck from dozing off on the couch. And even that was lessened somewhat by the fact that someone had apparently tucked a pillow carefully behind his head.

Actually having a body draped over him wasn’t _entirely_ new, however. Even if the way Cullen’s limbs were half sprawled off the couch made him snort. There was a bit too much warm sentimentality blossoming in his chest to remember that burying his fingers in Cullen’s curls might not be the best idea. He made to pull back when the man began to stir, but was only met with a sleepy smile.

“Huh.” Cullen actually turned to rub his face against Dorian’s chest, which had the man in question swallowing hard. “Guess we forgot bed was a thing.”

“Or simply didn’t want to go.” Dorian tugged on Cullen’s hair, huffing at the grumpy groans it got him. Or, at least, he _hoped_ it was more frustrated, for both their sakes. “How is that you could have made sure I was comfortable before yourself?”

“Who says I wasn’t comfortable?” Cullen almost plopped onto the floor in his efforts to sit up, but managed to find his footing with only a knocked knee into the coffee table. “Should try to make some breakfast, I think.”

“Or there’s always leftover Chinese.” Dorian spread out his hands at the incredulous look that earned him. “That’s what it’s for!”

Not that he was going to complain over receiving an omelette instead. Even if Cullen came close to burning it about halfway through when explaining to Cassandra that he wouldn’t be going for a run today after all. Dorian tried not to look too smug when it was revealed he was the one who saved that little disaster, but, really, anyone who knew him had to realize that was a lost cause.

Which was perhaps why he found it all the more harder to take the easy route now.

“Cullen, there’s…” Dorian had to clear his throat to rid himself of the lump growing when Cullen lifted his head. The other man had perched next to him on one of the wobbly stools at the counter, curls rumpled in the best of ways and face blissfully open for once. “I...might have met Anders.” He slammed the heel of his hand to his forehead when Cullen’s expression shut down all at once. “It wasn’t on purpose!”

“No, I don’t imagine it would have been.” Cullen prodded at his eggs with a bit more aggression than was needed, mouth twisted down. “If you’re trying to convince me to—”

“I’m trying to tell you the chance is there,” Dorian cut in. “Seemed unfair not to at least give you that. Or to let you know he’s doing well.”

“He…” Cullen’s eyes slid slowly—tentatively, as if there was any need for that—over to Dorian. “He is?”

“So it would seem,” Dorian said. “Even started up a community run clinic. Quite proud of it too if the way he chatted my ear off about it was any hint.”

That actually worked a real bit of laughter out of Cullen. “Yes, that sounds like him.” He dragged his teeth against his bottom lip. “I can’t say for sure, but one day it might nice to… If you were… That is if you…”

“Oh, I would want to.” Dorian patted Cullen on the knee, waiting for the other man to manage something close to a smile before pulling back. “Now finish your eggs. You’ll need the strength to sit through me debating my thesis again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More meat in the next one, I promise! Cullen happens to be a terribly stubborn lad (to the surprise of no one, I'm sure.)


	24. Chapter 24

Cullen didn’t think much of it, at first.

For the most part, anyone who might want to reach him was right there working alongside him. Not to mention that checking his phone tended to be the  _ last _ thing on his mind when spending most of his time either covered in flour or frosting. He might have caught a few buzzes from it, but it was always hard to tell over the usual thrum of ambient noise.

So, honestly, it was a surprise in more ways than one to have Sera swing around the doorway to the kitchens. “Hey,” she said, “is your sister single? She won’t let on.”

“What are you doing out front?” Cullen blinked a little, cursing at the buttercream that wound up slipping all over his fingers when everything registered. “And my sister is  _ married _ , last I checked.” It was something of a wonder that he didn’t actually toss the piping bag up in the air when an all too familiar voice called out from the front.

“Hey, you have two of us, remember?”

Cullen dashed out of the back room quick enough to bash his shoulder against the doorframe, which had Rosalie wincing. She was just as quick to pout at being shooed back from all but leaning over the counter. “Don’t be like that,” he said. “Dorian would’ve been far less kind about than me.”

“Nonsense,” Dorian said. “One doesn’t assault friend’s family members. You just turn their order to decaf while they’re not looking.”

Cullen smiled despite himself, not even trying to stop his sister from tossing a sugar packet at Dorian’s head. If anything, he was kind of impressed it even managed to hit its target spot on. “So, first things, first?” He jabbed a finger at Sera. “ _ No _ , you’re taken.”

“So?” Sera tossed back. “Doesn’t stop the boss, does it? Figured you of all—”

“And that’s enough of that, I think.” Josephine flashed a quick smile, all weaponized civility already, at Rosalie as she edged a flailing, near cursing Sera back towards the kitchens.

“I can see why you like working here,” Rosalie said. “It’s just like home, yeah?”

Cullen huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Kind of, I guess,” he said. “But, really, Rose, what are you doing here?”

“Honnleath isn’t that far away.” Rosalie was quick to smack Cullen on the arm when his face twisted. “That was  _ not _ a scolding. Just figured that I’d head out instead of the parents.”

“That wouldn’t be that…” Cullen trailed off at the slow lift of Rosalie’s eyebrows, not to mention the small shriek from the back as Sera tossed suds at Josephine. “Alright, so maybe that would be...” A crow of delight when Josephine actually got a sponge tossed at Sera; hard to tell who from. “...the best.”

“Exactly,” Rosalie said. “So now I can report back that you’re doing fine. And totally take advantage of what has to be your  _ excellent _ family discount. I remember how good your cooking is.”

Just as well that she was too busy peering through the display case to catch the surprised twist to Cullen’s mouth at that. He had enlisted almost straight out of highschool, back when Rosalie still came up to a little over his waist. That she remembered anything about that time—let alone fondly—was something of a pleasant surprise.

“So you’ll be staying for dinner too?” he asked.

Rosalie’s smile was near blinding. “I’ll buy the groceries?”

*

The look Dorian fixed the Rutherford siblings that evening upon their return was equal parts horrified and amused. “Is there anything actually left of the grocery store?” he said.

“Eh, some of it.” Rosalie was quick to scoot away from Dorian’s hands. “Oh, nope, I’ve heard horror stories about your cooking, mister.”

Cullen grimaced under the scowl Dorian cast his way. “I told her  _ one _ !” he insisted.

“Totally enough!” Rosalie didn’t make any effort to keep Dorian from helping to set out the ingredients, though. “Guess what we’re making yet?”

“Some sort of meat pie?” Dorian shrugged. “So long as Cullen’s making it, I won’t worry.”

“Looks like he’s been spoiling you too,” Rosalie said.

“Someone had to get him off of takeout.” Cullen frowned as he searched about on the spice rack. “Speaking of which, Rosalie, what have you been—”

“Ah, ah.” Dorian’s shoulders shook with laughter when Cullen frowned against the finger pressed to his lips. “She’s a college student, remember? The less you think on that subject, the better.”

Cullen tapped his foot against the floor before turning to fiddle about for the skillet. “I need to send you more care packages,” he muttered.

He tactfully pretended not to catch Rosalie high fiving Dorian out of the corner of his eye.

It was easy to let more than a few things slide away, such as it was. Made all the easier, really, by how deftly Dorian shifted the conversation back towards their guest.

“So, it’s art for sure?” Cullen asked. “Mia might turn even further into our mother if you change again.”

“I won’t tell her you said that,” Rosalie giggled. “And...yeah. Pretty sure I only stayed away from it at the start because I didn’t want to have all the lectures about how worthless it was.”

“Nothing you do could ever be worthless,” Cullen said. “To be fair, that’s coming from the man who bakes for a living. So the bar’s set pretty low.”

“Rosalie,” Dorian said, “be a dear, would you?”

“Wait.” Cullen blinked a few times, eyes shifting between the two of them. “What are you—” He really should have known better than to be surprised by the pinch to his arm, he really should. The hazards of having younger siblings, truth be told.

“I don’t care what anyone else says, even you.” Rosalie avoided his gaze by stabbing at her pot pie with renewed vigor. “As a kid, I’d tell everyone you ran off to become a knight. Doesn’t seem to have changed all that much either.”

Cullen barely got a chance to open his mouth before Dorian’s hand dropped onto his thigh under the table. Not that the man let on with the small smile he cast Rosalie’s way. “I can provide evidence as needed,” he said.

“Oh!” Rosalie leaned across the table, eyes already bright, and just like that the tension dropped away. “If you do, I’ll swap you some truly adorable stories about Cullen as a—”

“I suddenly can’t remember why I  _ wanted _ you to meet my family,” Cullen said.

“Well,” Rosalie admitted, while Dorian squeezed Cullen’s thigh, “at least you didn’t start with Mia.”

*

Cullen wound up walking Rosalie to the bus stop some time before work the next day. It meant heading out amongst hushed streets with the sun just barely considering coming out with the birds, but his sister didn’t murmur much of a complaint. No doubt since she got to half drowse against his shoulder anyway, his arm looped around her waist to keep her steady.

“You know,” she said, “this is kinda what I wanted for you.”

Cullen stumbled against the cobblestones, rubbing his hand soothingly over Rosalie’s back when she grumbled against being jostled. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he said.

Rosalie dragged her bottom lip back between her teeth. “I just...always kind of imagined you like this,” she murmured. “For when you were going to get better.”

“Never ‘if’?” Cullen tried for a laugh, swallowing hard instead when it fell flat.

“Yeah,  _ when _ ,” Rosalie said, nudging him in the side. “You were gonna be somewhere warm and fun with people that knew just how awesome you were. Or, at the very least, someone who looked at you like Dorian does.” She wound up being the one supporting Cullen’s misstep this time; probably having sensed it coming.

“He… He doesn’t…” Cullen swallowed hard. “He’s my best friend, Rose.”

“Yeah,” Rosalie replied, “and he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon for him.” She leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m not saying you have to act on it, but just remember you’re not as alone as you might think.”

That, of course, though, meant not overthinking things, which might as well be a Rutherford speciality by now.

Dorian was there to greet him with a smile when he slid into the bakery, guiding him around the corner with a hand to small of his back. “I assume it went well then,” he said. “No bandits weighleid you on the road? Minimal sibling embarrassments to remind me of why I’m an only child?”

“Sure,” Cullen said, “as though you didn’t pump her for stories after I’d gone to bed.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” Dorian said, swirling away to put the finishing touches to Cullen’s drink. “It’s not as if I added a shot of raspberry to your coffee as a tribute to that time you covered yourself in the stuff.”

“It was a pick your own field,” Cullen said, “and...and I don’t have to explain this to you.”

“Quite right.” There was a hint of amusement to Dorian’s eyes as he passed over the coffee. “Just let me bask in the imaginations of how adorable it was.”

“And sticky.” Cullen blew across the mug, considering, while Dorian laughed. “Dorian...do you think you could… Would you ever be interested in trying again? With someone else, I mean.” He hissed out through his teeth when Dorian’s laughter caught in his throat, the man’s face going blank all at once. “I didn’t mean it like…! You don’t even have to—”

“Cullen.” Dorian’s hand was a gentle yet firm pressure on his shoulder. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I just...wasn’t expecting a question like that to come yet.”

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Cullen said.

“Now I wouldn’t say that.” Dorian squeezed Cullen’s shoulder once more before letting it go. “Although it does make a man wonder if you’ve got someone waiting in the wings for me.”

“Wait,” Cullen said, “does that—”

“Yes.” Dorian managed a slight smile, still not quite having moved away from Cullen. Or perhaps that had more to do with how Cullen himself kept swaying towards Dorian. “I could do it for the right man. But I warn you, I’m awfully picky.”

“Don’t I know it.” Cullen sipped at his coffee before leaning over to rest his head against Dorian’s for a moment. If he hadn’t slanted towards his good ear, he wouldn’t have been able to catch the hitch of breath over the whir of the machines around them. “Guess I better get started then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter can alternatively be titled "Cullen Stanton Rutherford is so stubborn about his feelings that I had to bring in his sister to yell at him for me", honestly.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr inspo tag](http://redxluna.tumblr.com/tagged/bakery-au) (has a smattering of of nsfw content, so be careful. dig deep enough and there also some fills I did before starting this proper while feeling out the world.)
> 
> [inspo board collection](https://weheartit.com/redxluna/collections/121423499-bakery-au) (fair warning---don't look at this one when hungry! it's full of a lot of yummy baked goods.)


End file.
